Postcards From Middle Earth
by Lizbit
Summary: Paige, an ardent LOTR'S fan, unwittingly discovers that her linen cupboard is a portal to Middle Earth. Upon trading places with Éowyn, she discovers things are not quite like what Tolkien wrote about in the books... Éomer believes her to be an evil witch, Wormtongue is forming a mad crush, and once she is banished from Edoras, how will she return home?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: If you are at all familiar with the film "Lost in Austen", you'll love this story. If not, no worries! It merely sets the stage. I'm very excited to be writing this fanfic - its been ages since I've travelled to Middle Earth. Please read and review!**

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**"Postcards From Middle Earth"**

**Chapter One**

_Alright, here we go_, Paige thought after she had collected her luggage, and left the "secure area" of the airport. The double door automatically swung open, and she followed a throng of people like a sheep. More people stood waiting for loved ones to come out; her eyes scanned over the sea of faces for her cousin Amanda, but she couldn't spot her anywhere.

Its true, she hadn't seen Amanda in like, ten years when they were both teenagers, but she felt confident that she'd recognize her if she saw her.

Finding a seat out of the way, she dragged her top-heavy suitcase over to a chair, and decided to wait. She had emailed Amanda three days before coming, confirming the flight and all that. It had unnerved her a bit that she never got a reply.

An hour crawled by. She looked in her pocket mirror and was horrified to discover that she'd been walking around with her blond hair all askew, and tired dark circles under her eyes.

It wasn't until the last passenger left and she was alone that she knew it was time to haul ass.

_She must've just forgotten_, Paige justified to herself. _And my email got lost. It probably accidentally went in the junk folder. Email always get lost in there. And who ever checks their junk folder? I know I don't..._

Stepping outside and breathing UK air for the first time, Paige was relieved to spot a classic black British taxi straight away.

"Can you take me to Hammersmith?" she said, approaching the driver.

He rolled his eyes and said, "You've got to go to the front of the cue, luv," pointing at the taxi in front of him.

"Oh, sorry. Thanks," Paige replied, feeling a bit like an idiot. A line of taxis, like a mile long, crammed in together. She passed them all, still dragging her suitcase. When at last she got to the front of the line, she asked again if the driver could take her to Hammersmith, wherever the hell that was...

He had a round, friendly, slightly pudgy face, but was clean-shaven and seemed well kept. "It'd be much cheaper for you to take the tube, luv. Hammersmith's way out of the way, if you catch my meaning..."

She glanced around. The tube entrance was all the fuck way down where she had just come from. That'd be real fun with a gigantoid suitcase... "I don't care. I'd rather get their quickly."

"Oh, the tube link is real fast..."

"Look, I appreciate you trying to save me a buck, or...pound, rather, but I just need to get there, alright? I'm so flipping tired, and my cousin was supposed to meet me, and I don't know where the hell she is, and I've never been here before, and I'm alone, and kinda freaking out, and..."

"Calm yourself, sweet'eart. You're in good 'ands. Hammersmith, was it?"

"Yes," Paige said, breathing out a sigh of relief. "87 Petley Road, Hammersmith."

"Righto," he said climbing out of the cab and taking her suitcase. He picked it up as though it were only packed with pillows and gently tossed it in. Paige climbed in after it, feeling both relieved and pampered. Cabbies in Chigago sure wouldn't step out of their taxi for love or money...

"Where you from, luv?" the cabbie asked when they were finally on their way.

"Chicago...in the States..."

"Ah. I've been to America. Been to Las Vegas, myself."

"Oh?"

"Aye. So, what brings to to England, then?"

"I'm visiting my cousin. She's English."

"Oh, aye. Is this your first trip to the UK, then?"

"Yes," Paige replied, looking out the window. Nevermind people driving on the wrong side of the road, they were also driving on the wrong side of the car! "My first trip anywhere," she said, half to herself.

She was heartily glad he had finally agreed to take her, as it provided the perfect opportunity to adjust to this unfamiliar city she suddenly found herself in. It was bizarre to her to suddenly be in a place where she had zero point of reference. She didn't recognize anything, from the buildings, landmarks, or even street signs. She felt lost in another world. She couldn't wait to see Amanda. A familiar face, amongst all this unfamiliarity.

At last they pulled up to a building and stopped. "Right. There you are, number sixty-seven Petley Road, Hammersmith. It's just that black door there."

"Oh, excellent. Thank you so much."

"Its a little dear, I'm afraid."

"Sorry?" Paige asked, feeling lost in both country and conversation.

"Dear, you know...expensive. That's 24 pounds."

_Fuuuuuck_... Paige thought as she dug into her wallet. _That ride was more than $50! I guess I asked for it, _she surmised, and handed him thirty. "I know you didn't want to take me. I really appreciate it, though. Keep the change."

The cabbie was a confirmed gentleman, and once again got out to help Paige with her luggage. He even shook her hand, and wished her a happy journey.

When the taxi left, that was it. She was on her own. She strode up to the black door and noticed it was not blessed with an intercom. The door itself was unlocked. An elevator? Noooo! Paige had a proper English welcome of having to lug her big, heavy suitcase up three flights of stairs.

"Amanda, if you're not home, I'm going to kill you..." she said, read-faced and sweating profusely as she hauled it up the last steps.

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**A/N: Ok, I know its short, but if I'm going to upload on a semi-routine basis, I think they'll have to be. If you heckle me for more, I just might have to oblige! Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry its taken me nearly a week to get this up. My father has been having heart problems, and my baby is teething, so life hasn't exactly been a bowl of cherries this week. Writing this gave me a nice little escape, though, so hopefully things will simmer down and I'll get Chapter 3 on here a lot sooner. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2**

Paige at last stood in front of the door she had so longed to see. Without waiting, she knocked heartily on the door, and was pleased to almost immediately hear oncoming footsteps.

The door swung wide, but Paige was at once taken aback. In front of her was not her cousin Amanda, but quite possibly one of the most beautiful black women she had ever seen in the flesh.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, seeing the bewildered look on Paige's face.

"Um..." Rechecking her slip of paper, Paige replied, "Yes, sorry. I sure hope I'm not lost... I'm looking for Amanda Price?"

"Yeah, this is Amanda's flat. I'm her roommate, Pirhana."

"Oh, thank God!" Paige exclaimed, allowing herself to breathe easily again. "I was so worried when she didn't meet me at the airport."

"Sorry?"

"She was supposed to meet me at the airport. I'm her cousin, Paige."

"Ohhhh..." Pirhana replied, but didn't look especially excited about this new bit of information.

Paige could clearly see that something was wrong. What was wrong with Amanda? Was she in an accident? Was she dead?!

"Oh, God... What is it? You can tell me. I can handle it. Is she dead? She's dead, isn't she? THAT'S why she never emailed me back! Oh my God..."

"No, no! Relax!" Pirhana commanded, putting her firm hand on Paige's shoulder. "Why don't you come in?"

_Holy crap, apartments in England are small_, she thought to herself as she followed Pirhana into a small sitting room. The couch was worn, but comfortable.

"So...NOT dead..." Paige said, now a lot calmer.

"Not dead, but...complicated. She's...kind of on holiday..."

"Oh, really?" Paige said, visibly disappointed. "When will she be back? I was supposed to stay with her."

"Hard to say," Pirhana said, vaguely. "She pops in from time to time, mostly when she needs toothpaste and tampons..."

"I thought you said she was on holiday. Doesn't she live here anymore?"

"Well, she sort of does," Pirhana replied. "But she met this bloke, you see? And now...she sort of stays with him."

"Oh!" Paige replied, relieved that things were at last becoming clearer. "So, can I have his address? Maybe I'll go visit her there."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Pirhana said with an emphatic shake of her head. Seeing the puzzled look on Paige's face she added, "You see, they live very differently. No cars...no tele..."

"Amish?" Paige asked, nodding her head.

"Something like that..." Pirhana replied. "But, look. Her room is available. You can still stay here while she's gone. I never know when she's going to pop in, so maybe you'll get lucky."

"Ok, if I won't be in the way..."

"Nah, not at all," Pirhana said, rising. "Are you going to be OK looking after yourself? I'm afraid I've got a date tonight..."

"No, go! I'll probably just curl up with my book or sleep. Feeling a bit jet-lagged."

"Alright," Pirhana replied, somewhat relieved the date wouldn't be ruined. Grabbing her purse she turned around, saying, "Oh, that's Amanda's room there, at the end of the hall."

"Great."

Smiling, Pirhana opened the door, but stopped mid-stride. "Oh, one more thing. If, by any chance, you find a door behind our shower...best just to leave it closed..."

_What the fuck is she talking about? _"Alright," she replied in the end, thinking it wiser to just look like she understood. _How the hell can there be a door BEHIND a shower?_

With that, Pirhana left and Paige was alone...in a strange apartment, in a strange country, where she didn't know anyone, and where they kept speaking in weird phrases she felt too stupid to understand. What the hell was she doing here?

Deciding that all her problems would be solved by a hot shower and going to bed with a book, she hauled her suitcase to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

_This bedroom is an absolute closet_, she thought as she crammed her suitcase into a tiny space in front of the overflowing wardrobe. There was only enough room for a double bed, one nightstand, and a dresser with a broken bottom drawer.

She found clean sheets in the hall linen cupboard, and set about changing the bed and exploring about the apartment.

Upon staring into the bathroom, she did not feel any dawning realization as to what Pirhana had been talking about. The bathroom held a baby blue bathtub and its three walls were tiled with matching forget-me-not tile. How on earth could there be a door behind one of the walls?

Perhaps she had misheard her? Or, perhaps it was some slang that she was just unfamiliar with? Maybe, "Don't go into the door behind the shower" meant, "Don't...take too long in the shower"?

It turns out, that's what she ultimately figured Pirhana meant, because without being 5 minutes into her unsatisfactory lukewarm shower, the water suddenly turned quite cold and she had to rinse her hair quickly and jump out.

The day had gone from exciting, to bad, to worse. Curling neath the covers, she had just read the first line of The Two Towers, her favourite of The Lord of the Rings books.

**_Aragorn sped up the hill. Every now and again he..._**

_Whatthefuckwasthat?!_

She distinctly heard the sound of someone knocking something over. She had even heard a little, "Ow!" after something had shattered.

Fighting the impulse to lock her door and call the police (Was it still 911 in England? She didn't know! Oh, God! And this was an EMERGENCY!) she climbed out of bed and opened the bedroom door a crack.

"Pirhana? Is that you?"

Silence answered her, and it was DAMN quiet!

Frantically, she looked around Amanda's room for anything that she might use as a weapon. She quickly settled on a pop-up umbrella and hoped for the best.

Holding it like a baseball bat, she crept out into the hall. She passed the linen closet which she was SURE she had closed, and stepped into the sitting room. There stood a young woman, her long golden hair falling like a waterfall down her back. She had apparently just come back from a renaissance fair, if her dress was any indicator.

"Oh, dear God," Paige said, closing her eyes. "Please tell me that I'm dreaming..."

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**A/N: Hope you're enjoying! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long hiatus... Life got insanely busy, I had semi-emergency surgery (gallbladder removal), and my babe went through another sleep regression (and if you don't have kids yet, and don't know what that is, just be grateful for your blissful sleep you get, is all I've got to say). Again, sorry for the long delay. I'll try to get another one up this week. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 3**

"You do not dream."

Paige, upon opening her eyes, nearly jumped out of her skin for the lunatic lady from the Renaissance fair was just inches from her face.

"Who are you? How the fuck did you get in here? If you don't have a key, Honey, I'm gunna whoop your ass with this here umbrella. You understand me?"

Blinking, the stranger simply replied, "As to your first question, my name is Éowen, daughter of Eomund, of the house of Theoden, King. As to how I came upon this...I must say, very strange land, I but opened a doorway. And as to what I believe to you threatening me with that stick, I have serious doubts as to your true intention."

It was as though Paige's brain had ceased working. She could have sworn she had heard the loony say that she was Éowyn. Impossible. Ridiculous. _Fuck, I need to sleep this jet lag off..._

"You're not really here!" Paige finally declared with a smile. "You're some jet-lagged induced hallucination brought on by extreme fatique and a freezing cold shower. I'm going back to bed now, and when I get back here, you will be gone, and my world will make sense again. Goodbye!"

But before Paige could turn and scurry back to bed (her intention being to block the door and hide under the covers), Éowyn promptly grabbed her by the hand.

"I said before, you do not dream."

Looking down at her hand, Paige could only reply, "Well, crap."

Feeling crestfallen, Éowyn asked, "Why do you doubt my identity? You think me dishonest? That I should lie to guile you? You think me as low as that?"

Feeling bad for hurting the crazy person's feelings, Paige couldn't help reply, "Look, it's not that. It's just that...it's impossible. Éowyn is a character from a BOOK. It's a fictional place. It's NOT REAL."

"You doubt my sincerity."

"That you're from Middle Earth and you found your way to this apartment through the linen cupboard? Yeah. Sorry. Don't mean to...hurt your fictional feelings, but there you have it."

Persing her lips together, and raising her chin in defiance, Éowyn marched over to the linen cupboard and held the door open wide. "If you think I lie, I ask you. Do your own eyes deceive you?"

Paige looked through the doorway, and at first thought she was seeing things. Where there had been shelves full to the brim with towels and sheets, now stood completely empty. A doorway.

"That's a neat trick," Paige said, still unconvinced. Stepping forward, she placed her arm though the doorway and looked onward. Ahead was a hall, with wooden walls richly painted a burnt pumpkin colour, and hung with tapestries of red and gold, showing a fine white horse.

Paige promptly shut the door. She closed her eyes a moment, opened the door again, but there the hallway remained. A passage to another world.

"Not possible."

"You are not mad. Indeed, I would not have deemed it possible either," Éowyn replied, gently.

Paige shut the door, and turned to look at Eowyn for the first time with believing eyes. "You really are Éowyn? Like, for REAL?"

"Aye."

"Wow. Kay, I need to sit. And a DRINK."

_The Brits sure do know how to booze_, Paige thought, upon raiding Amanda's alcohol stash. She hadn't tasted any of the liquers before, but settled on Scotch in the end and poured some into a clean glass. It hit her tongue like a hot coal, and she choked some, but felt better. If anything, it proved that she really was awake.

They both sat on the couch, Éowyn taking in her surroundings; Paige taking in Éowyn.

"So..." Paige said at last. "Middle Earth. What's that like?"

"As for the whole, I fear I cannot say, as I have never ventured out of Rohan, my uncle's kingdom. And as for Rohan...once I hear it was a beautiful land. Full of hope and prosperity. Sadly now, we sink ever into despair."

Paige's mind was flipping through the book. "Hmph. Answer me this: you have a cousin, right? Théodred?"

"Yes!" Éowyn replied, shocked. "How do you know this?"

"I've just...heard of him. Kay, so Théodred: alive or dead?"

Éowyn gasped. "Why, ALIVE, of course!"

"Good to know," Paige replied. Huh, so she was somewhere before The Two Towers. Before Merry and Pippen had been kidnapped and all that. Interesting...

"And...what of your world?" Éowyn asked, standing and striding over to the window. From it, an average nightly view could be seen of long rows of terraced houses, their windows golden from within, soft glowing street lamps, and busy passersby.

"It's not my world, really. What I mean to say is, I'm just visiting from over the pond."

"The pond?" Éowyn repeated.

"Well, it's not really a pond. The ocean, actually. Do you...know what an ocean is?"

"A large expanse of water, is it not?"

"Yeah, that's right," Paige replied, impressed. "You see, I'm here visiting my cousin. But, I can tell you a bit about it, if you'd like."

"Indeed, I would like," Éowyn replied, rushing back to her seat.

"Okay..." Paige took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Well, it's a equal society. Men and women have the same rights."

"Of what do you mean? Rights?"

"We can both vote."

Éowyn blinked. "Vote?"

Paige knew she had to do better. "Women can work. Do the same jobs as men. Be independant. Do whatever they want, really."

"I see."

Paige could tell that Éowyn had yet to be impressed. Maybe she had always assumed the archaic civilization in Middle Earth had simply repressed women when that wasn't the case?

"We also have TV," she said, pulling out the remote and pressing a button.

On flicked the screen, casting the room in an abundance of light. Éowyn sat dumbfounded, her mouth agape as she watched the people upon the screen.

Flicking her eyes back and forth between the TV and Éowyn, Paige confessed, "Kay, this is actually a documentary on cheese, but we have a whole..." Paige turned the channel... "THREE other stations to choose from. Holy crap, how can the Brits live like this?! FOUR channels? Are you kidding me?!"

She turned the tv off. "Kay, in the States, we have literally hundreds of channels..."

"I could never have dreamed it..." Éowyn replied, still staring at the black screen. "How does it work?"

Paige thought a moment. "You know, I just don't know."

"Is it magic?"

Staring at Éowyn, Paige did not smile. "Yes. It's magic."

"Oh!" Éowyn exclaimed, smiling for the first time in months. "It is most wondrous magic to behold."

"Isn't it?" Paige agreed.

Silence ensued, upon which Éowyn finally broke. "You know, I have told you my name, but I have yet to learn yours."

"Oh! It's Paige."

"You live in a truly amazing place, Paige. I am quite envious, you know."

"Really? 'Cause I'd kill to live in Middle Earth. Life must be so much simpler there. Here it's rush-rush-rush. Not enough hours in the day, and gotta get to work on time, and Lord help you if your rent is late..."

It was true that Éowyn had not followed much of what Paige had said, but she nevertheless replied, "Monotony, that is what my life is filled with. I sit and wait, idle and useless. Trapped. I fear I shall die thus."

"No, you won't."

"I fear I shall."

"No, seriously, you won't. You're going to go do great deeds, meet a really great guy, and get married. You know, live happily ever after and all that."

"If only that were true."

"It is, honest. You wait."

"Paige, that is forever my condition. All I do is wait, and I know not what for. Sometimes I feel as though I am but a beast in a cage, unable to break free. What I would not give just to be free but for a day!"

Staring at her new friend, Paige repeated her words in her mind. Could they do it? Was it possible? Was it insanity? Sometimes insanity sounded kinda fun...

"Why don't you do it then?"

"I do not understand..."

"Why don't you break free? Just for a day or two? You stay here, I'll go there. We'll switch places, just for a few days."

"You would do that? For me?"

"Hell yeah!" And then Paige said it. Years later, she would look back upon this defining moment with a sense of foreboding only to been seen in hindsight. She said, "What's the worst that could happen?"

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**A/N: Again, SO SORRY for the delay. I'm still really excited about this story, though, and want to keep it going. Would love to hear your thoughts in a REVIEW! (hint - hint!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ok, this is a little short, but I'm almost finished the next chapter already, so hopefully it'll go up in a day or two. Happy reading!**

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**Postcards Chapter 4**

Paige stepped though the linen cupboard doorway, and it closed softly behind her. She tugged at her new dress, which was actually Éowyn's dress, green crushed velvet with gold braided trim work. It was very pretty, but insanely heavy, and a little loose in the bust. It seems that Éowyn had been blessed by the bosom-fairies, lucky bitch.

Praying that no one would notice, Paige simply combed through her too-short hair with her fingers, praying that that, too, didn't seem too out of place. Her only other possession that she carried with her was a piece of paper that she had folded neatly, and clutched tightly in her hand.

"Turn right," she said aloud, "then left..." as she walked along the corridor, agog with her surroundings. Flamed torches lit the walls (which seemed kind of precarious to her, as they were made of WOOD! Aren't these people worried about FIRES?!

At last she found the door which Éowyn had told her was her 'bedchamber'. She was but lifting the door latch when she heard a deep voice shout, "Upon what presumption do you dare enter Lady Éowyn's chamber?"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Paige turned to see a man clad in a long robe of grey silk, trimmed with mahogany-coloured fur. His dark hair fell lank upon his face and shoulders. Paige knew who he was the second her eyes clasped on him.

"Fuck! You seriously scared the shit out of me! Don't ever do that. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to do that? What the hell are you doing here, peeping by her bedroom anyway? Huh, Wormtongue? That's your name, isn't it? Or should I say, Grima?"

Wormtongue, meanwhile, looked as though both his eyeballs and his brains were about to burst out of his head. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I sure as hell know you. Now, you just mind your P's and Q's, and go skulk in another corner somewhere."

But Wormtongue did not move.

"Skulk," Paige repeated. "It's a word. Look it up. But seriously, shoo! Shoo! Éowyn GAVE me permission to go into her chamber, thank you very much, so it's no concern of yours."

Paige stepped into the bedchamber, but before she could close the door, Wormtongue appeared, peeking around the doorway.

"Hey! Hey!" Paige scolded. "What did I say about peeping? No one likes a pervert, ya know."

But Wormtongue was intrigued. "What is your name?"

At this, Paige persed her lips and thrust up her chin as she had seen Éowyn do and replied, "Paige...daughter of Harold, of the house of...Price." To her it sounded ridiculous.

Wormtongue, however, merely looked confused. "I know neither that house nor that name."

"Well, duh. It's not like I'm from Edoras. I'm from..." Shit. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Crap! She should have worked her backstory out before leaving home sweet apartment.

"You are from..." he repeated, his suspicious eyes narrowing.

"...Bree!" she said at last, triumphantly. "You know, like the cheese. Actually, the cheese is spelled with an 'ie', but...that's not important..."

"And how is it you know Lady Éowyn?"

"Uh...we're pen pals," Paige said, nodding. "We've written each other for like, ages! So, she's off visiting Bree, and I'm here seeing Edoras. Cool, huh?"

"Lady Éowyn is gone?!" he said, grabbing her wrist.

"Dude, let go of my arm..."

"Where did she go?" he snarled, his grip tightening.

"Seriously dude, you'll be sorry..."

"I shall not - OW!"

Wormtongue collapsed upon the threshold with a giant intake of breath.

"Warned ya, didn't I? Grab a lady without permission? It's a knee in the balls! How you like THEM apples? Now, seriously, I'm über tired, so if you don't mind..."

Wormtongue did not move, so Paige was forced to push him out of the doorway with her foot before shutting the door.

"Goodnight!"

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**A/N: As I'm sure you can tell, I'm having a lot of fun writing this. It's a bit of a departure from my usual stuff, so this actually kind of exciting for me. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it's taken a few days longer to put this up than planned. Good news is the next one is almost done, so I hope to get it up a lot sooner! Please read and ****review!**

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**Postcards Chapter 5**

Sleep. Ah, blissful sleep. At first, Paige had thought she had dreamt the entire thing. But, upon opening her eyes, the full weight of her decisions fell upon her.

Éowyn's bedchamber was like something out of an episode of Vikings. The walls were wood, painted a pale grey, and wood wood, everything was made of wood. Her bed was warm and soft (made of what she suspected was a giant sack filled with feathers), and she had blankets of thick velvets and wooly fur. Her fire had long ago died out, and there was now a chill in the air.

"What to wear, oh, what to wear?" There was no closet, just a massive trunk that looked like a giant coffin in the room, filled to the brim with gowns. She was just in the process of pulling one out when the door opened.

A young girl stood at the doorway and gasped.

"It's okay," Paige assured her. "Yes, I know I'm not Lady Éowyn. I'm...visiting. She said I could use her things."

"Very well, milady..." the girl said, though not entirely sure if it was true or proper. "What would your ladyship like to wear today?"

"Huh. I dunno. What is there that's WARM?"

It turns out, she had plenty to choose from. This trunk was of Éowyn's WINTER clothing. There were still several more trunks still in storage.

In the end she chose a grey velvet gown, trimmed with white fur. "I'm sure I'll have PETA on my ass for wearing this, but it's friggin' freezing here, so I don't care."

Of course, the young girl hadn't a clue as to what Paige had said, so sagely replied, "Just as you say, milady."

When at last Paige left her room, there stood Wormtongue waiting in the hall.

"I assure you," he said immediately, " I was not peeping."

"Well, alright then," Paige replied with a sideways glance. "So...what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting to show you to the dining hall. If it is your wish to break your fast, that is."

It was Paige's turn to be confused. "Huh?"

Wormtongue blinked. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh! Hungry! Yes! I could eat a whole roast pig!"

The dining hall was massive with a oak beamed ceiling, and giant candelabras hanging down. There were four small windows in the room, but it was mostly clad in darkness, despite the candles and great fire. The table could easily seat at least 50, and appeared to Paige like one giant, long picnic bench with a magnificent throne at the end. There sat a very old man with white hair, his crown slightly askew. A servent sat beside him, spooning him what appeared to be soup.

"Who's that?" asked Paige.

"That?" Wormtongue replied, agast. "Why, that is Théoden, King."

"Oh, right," Paige replied. "I forgot you still had him all magiced up, you bad man."

"I beg your pardon?" Wormtongue replied, but Paige didn't heed him, for she saw all the food upon the table.

"OK, I know I said I could eat a roast pig, but I didn't think there'd actually BE one!" The table was laden with foods normally seen out of Dickens. Roast pork, some other kind of meat with a sauce and potatoes, a large crumbling cheese, what appeared to be cold roast beef, and long crusts of bread with butter.

"Nothing green," Paige observed. "Honestly, it's a wonder you all don't have scurvy! Or constipation, at the very least..."

"I beg your pardon?" Wormtongue repeated again.

"Nothing," Paige assured him and sat down. There were several men at the table, all casting her a curious glance. Paige chose not to heed them. She partook of the cold beef, some of the stinky cheese, and bread and butter. A servant came and poured her some herbal tea. Paige thought it tasted like springtime in a cup.

It was then that she noticed Wormtongue still standing beside her. "You can sit down, ya know. Or do I have to invite you?"

Without reply, Wormtongue sat, his own tongue seemingly struck dumb. He merely ogled at Paige, who was unlike any maiden he had met before.

Without warning or ceremony, a young man strode into the hall. He was tall, had long flowing golden hair that fell in soft waves to his shoulders, and was clad in leather and armor. His brow was furrowed, and he appeared one who had little sense of humour. He surveyed the room, not in the least finding what he desired, which made him twice as ill-tempered than he already felt. Espying Wormtongue made him even more so, and he was at once surprised to see a very strange looking maiden, clad in his sister's gown, no less.

"And whom do you presume to be?" he said gruffly to her, ignoring both the man sitting beside her, and the ghostly king at the other end of the table.

Paige rose, sizing the man up. "I'm Paige. You must be Éomer. Éowyn said you would..."

"Where is my sister?" he said sharply, interrupting her.

"She's..." Paige was a little surprised. Éomer was a lot more short-tempered than he seemed in the books, and nothing like what Éowyn had described to her.

"I am waiting," he said curtly.

_Ugh_, Paige thought, her nose scrunching in dislike. "She needed some vacay. Things are pretty gloomy around here, so she went..."

Again, he interrupted her, this time a lot more savagely. "Went?! Went where?! What have you done with her?" He stepped close to her face, and his tall frame bore down upon her.

"Okay, I haven't done anything with her. She's gone on a bit of a holiday, is all..."

"Are you in league with him? Sitting and plotting like spies! I swear I shall have you dragged from the kingdom..."

It was Wormtongue's turn to interrupt, it seems, for he rose up and said, "If you imagine Lady Éowyn's leaving was any doing of ours, you are mistaken, Master Horse!"

But Éomer continued upon Paige. "You are naught but a witch that..."

"Whoa, hey! Did you just call me a BITCH?"

This made Éomer stop short. "I beg your pardon?"

"'Cause you just can't do that, ya know," Paige said, putting her hands defiantly on her hips. "It's one thing for a girl to say that to another girlfriend, like, 'Yo, hey, bitch! How's it hanging?', but it's TOTALLY another thing for a guy to call a girl a bitch."

Nonplussed, Éomer said, "I...I called you a WITCH..."

"Oh," Paige replied. "Yeah, well I'm not that either. I mean, I have some witch friends, and they're really nice, and being wicca isn't what you think it is, with all the devil worship and all that. It's more about crystals, and herbs, and Mother Earth, if you know what I mean..."

She looked at both Éomer and Wormtongue who both continued to stand gaping at her. "What? What'd I say?"

His brow furrowing even more, Éomer said, "Who are you?"

"I told you! I'm Paige."

"What have you done with my sister?"

"I told you. I haven't done anything with her. She's gone for a little holiday (can't think why), and she'll be back in a few days. Honestly, what's your problem?"

"What is my problem?" Éomer repeated incredulously. "What is my problem? I shall tell you! I have an ailing King who is bewitched by this sniviling snake here. Our crops fail, our people starve, and now within our borders, our enemies are allowed to roam free and attack our people. My sister is missing, and here you stand her in her place!"

"Okay," Paige conceded, "when you put it like that, it all sounds pretty bad, I grant you. But you gotta believe me when I say...HEY!"

Éomer grabbed Paige's wrist. "I say again, where is my sister?"

"Dude, let go of my arm..."

At this, Wormtongue took a massive step back. "I should listen to her, if I were you..."

"I demand an answer!" Éomer snarled. "Where is my sister?"

"Dude," Paige warned again, "I'm not kidding around..."

"Where...OW!"

Paige's knee met sharply with poor Éomer's groin. "Wormy, what did I say? You grab a lady, it's a knee in the balls. Am I right?"

"Aye, Lady Paige," Wormtongue replied, smiling gleefully down upon Éomer's doubled up figure upon the floor.

"Alright. Time for a tour. Wormy, how about you show me around?"

And off they went down the hall, Éomer watching them as they went, already plotting his revenge.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Did I get any giggles out of you? HOPE SO! Please review, and know that I'm one of the rare breed of writers that responds to every review. I like mail. :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: OK, I know the last few chapters have pretty much just been "mad girl goes around kneeing everyone in the balls", but here's where it starts to heat up. It's a shortie (sorry!), but a goodie! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 6**

It wasn't until dinner that night that Paige saw Éomer again. He sat by the fire with a pewter pint of ale, glaring at her from across the room.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed the bustling room and approached him.

"Look, I'm sorry for kneeing you in the balls. Not saying that you didn't deserve it, grabbing a girl like you did, but, to show you I don't hold a grudge, here."

Paige held out a neatly folded up slip of paper. He stared at it a moment.

"What is that?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"It's a letter. To you. From Éowyn."

At that, he grabbed it, and hungrily pried it open. "Why did you not say? Were you intent upon keeping it from me?"

"As if!" she replied. "I was going to give it to you, but then my knee got distracted by your balls and I forgot."

But Éomer did not heed her, for he was fervently reading and re-reading his sister's letter. He felt as though he might cry. Now, he truly was alone.

"This is her hand," he said, mostly to himself.

"Huh?"

"She wrote this," he restated.

"Well, yeah. You think I could write those chicken scratches? I mean, runes? Look, I meant what I said this morning. She'll be back in a couple of days. She just needs a break. Everything you said this morning, it's getting to her, too. Plus, Wormy over there is kinda giving her the willies. She's just needs some time away and then she'll be back."

Éomer drank the last of his ale in one giant gulp. Rising up, he scrunched the paper in his fist and carelessly tossed it into the fire, it igniting in a blaze instantly. He gruffly wiped away a traitorous tear, and turned his heartfelt eyes upon her.

Paige wasn't sure if she was going to melt under his smolder, or have to knee him in the balls again. But when at last he spoke, it was almost with pity.

"You are a fool, Lady Paige. She has forsaken all of us."

That was a reaction which Paige had not foreseen. "What? No. She's coming back. Just..."

"Folly," he said, shaking his head. Then his eyes turned to her. "You should never have come here. This land, these people...we are cursed."

Before Paige could come up with some witty retort that would set everything right, a loud clank was sounded by a man holding a large pole. He banged it against the stone floor four more times, and silence fell around the hall.

Wormtongue stood triumphantly beside the feeble-looking king, who then began to speak. His weak voice was drawn out, as though he struggled for both words, and the intent behind them.

"These are dark times, as our end draws ever near. Mordor's forces grow, and our doom has been foretold."

"That's cheery," Paige whispered to Éomer, who merely cast her a sideways stare. "Nothing like a good heart-to-heart to give you the warm fuzzies."

The King continued on. "When our days behind number more than our days ahead, we must celebrate the little that we can. Upon this, I have great pleasure in announcing a betrothal."

Paige snorted, and none too quietly. "Oh yes," she whispered again to her new comrade. "We're all going to die, so let's celebrate a wedding! Is this guy for real?"

Éomer's brow furrowed at the puzzlement that was Paige, but said nothing.

The King continued on. "My loving and dutiful servant, Grima son of Gálmód, is to wed our lovely...what was the name?"

Wormtongue smiled, and spoke so all could hear. "Uh, Lady Paige, your lordship. Lady Paige, daughter of Harold, of the House of Price, your majesty."

Paige felt like she had just been kneed in the balls, if she had any.

"Oh, fuck," was all she could muster.

Maybe this place really _was_ cursed.

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**A/N: Dun dun duuuuun! What do you think Paige's response is going to be? Who will she knee this time? Stay tuned! Also, if you could please review, that would make me smile. Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! It keeps me encouraged to stay on it and post often. 'Cause let's face it, the only time I get to write is when my baby is having a nap... Sorry this is another shortie, but Chapter 8 will be longer. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 7**

"It seems I am to wish you joy," Éomer said dryly.

Paige laughed shrilly, but she suddenly had a sickly feeling in her stomach, similar to the last time she had eaten at Montana's. That resulted in food poisoning, and a three day visit to the toilet. Somehow, she suspected this to be much worse...

"I am NOT going to marry him!" she said crossly to Éomer, who at once broke out into an evil grin.

"No? It is not to be wedded bliss for our dear Grima?"

Paige snorted, and was inwardly starting to panic. She managed to catch Wormtongue's eye (the man was seriously, pompously proud of what had just occurred), and nodded her head repeatedly that he should come over.

He seemed lost to the invitation, but it was noticed by Éomer who cruelly remarked, "I fear you have a twitch. Is it pre-wedding excitement?"

"Oh, fuck off!" Paige spat, and gave up on calling Wormtongue to her side, and instead strode across the room, ruthlessly grabbing her betrothed's hand and said, "I need to talk to you!"

She could have sworn she heard Éomer laughing behind her.

Leaving the Great Hall and finding a quiet space in the hallway, Paige rounded on Wormtongue, and at the sudden sight of her face, so contorted in rage, he could not help but take an involuntary step back and shield his balls.

"Wormy! Seriously! What the fuck?!"

"Why do you insist upon calling me 'Wormy'?"

She let out a giant sigh. "'Cause 'Wormtongue' is a mouthful, and sounds kinda icky, if I'm being honest, and...well...I don't know you well enough to call you 'Grima'. But, don't change the subject! Betrothed?! Are you friggin' kidding me? Where the hell do you get off?"

It took Wormtongue a few moments to reply. "I am unsure of what you are asking me..."

"Kay, I'm not from here. But in...BREE...we do things a little differently. In BREE, a guy asks the GIRL if she wants to marry him."

"Ah, I see," Wormtongue said, smiling. He cleared his throat, and made creepy bedroom eyes at her. "Lady Paige. Will you marry me?"

It took Paige a moment to reply. She wanted to make sure she got this right. That there was no mistaking. No ambiguity. No fuck ups of any kind. "NO!"

Wormtongue blinked. "I am confused."

"Oh fuck me... Look. I'm not going to marry you, and that's that. Never mind that I just met you YESTERDAY..."

"Are you already married?"

"No..."

"Then I can forsee no impediment. The King decides who marries in this land. You are in his land. And the king..." He stepped close to her. Too close. There were those bedroom eyes again... "...wishes us wed."

"Yeah, but YOU influence the king."

"Just as you say."

Paige had had enough. There was no fooling around now. Time to make this crystal. "Listen to me and believe with all your might that I MEAN what I say. If you FORCE me into marriage, so help me GOD, you'll spend your wedding night searching for your balls - because I'll have cut them off! Do you understand me?!"

She did not wait for a reply, but decided instead upon a quick getaway.

To hell with Middle Earth. I mean, what the hell was she thinking? Simple?! Is that what she was expecting? Well, give me credit card bills, rush hour traffic, and telemarketers any day!

She made a couple of wrong turns, but eventally found her way back to the portal. It was an ambiguous looking door from the outside. Lifting the latch, she pulled, but the door did not give way.

"No..." she pleaded, pulling hard with all her might, but the door stayed firmly shut. "No please, God... You can't do this to me..."

Frantically, she looked for a keyhole. Maybe she could pick the lock? She had seen it done in movies. How hard could it be, really?

"Pretty damn hard, it turns out, if there isn't even a bloody lock!"

It was the first time that Paige understood how trapped Éowyn had truly felt.

"Well, fuck."

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**A/N: Well, what did you think? Paige is sure in a pickle now, isn't she? PLEASE REVIEW!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! As promised, this one's much longer. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 8**

The following week proved an interesting dance for Paige. She spent most of her waking hours evading Wormtongue, who now insisted on refering to her as "my beloved". She also spent a great deal of time at the portal, both trying to break it open with Éowyn's sword, as well as sitting and waiting by the door, convinced that perhaps it might spontaniously unlock at certain times of the day.

She just prayed with all her might that it didn't only open once a year.

She decided to go outside for some fresh air, and it also afforded less likelihood of her running into Wormtongue. She had just stepped out into the breezy chill of winter when she came upon a scene of pure chaos. Hundreds of people hurried about, others simply lined the streets in huddles, busily gossiping, or openly weeping.

A young boy was passing by, hauling a wooden pail of water. "Hey, you!" Paige called. "What the hell is going on?"

"Lord Théodred is dead! Killed in battle at the Ford of Isen! All of Edoras is talking of it!"

He bustled on his way without waiting for a reply, and all Paige could say was, "Uh oh..."

She quickly ran through the book in her head. Théodred dead. She couldn't exactly remember where that was in the book. She was pretty sure it happened before Merry and Pippin were kidnapped, but how long before? Before the Breaking of the Fellowship?

"My Beloved!" Paige heard from behind her and groaned. Wormtongue appeared radiant.

"I'm not marrying you!" Paige said firmly, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I understand you need convincing," Wormtongue conceded, "but I am unsure why you need tell me so every occasion we see one another."

"Because you forced me into an engagement after knowing me for 24 hours, that's the hell why. So, just to be clear: I'm not marrying you!"

"I understand..."

Paige nodded.

"Time can change many things..."

"Look, Wormy, I don't know what the hell you did to Théoden that made him all old and decrepit, but I just want you to know that I think it's very uncool. And now I've gone and heard about Théodred. And I think...you're just...awful."

Wormtongue appeared taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, come on! I know I read somewhere that you did something, aided in his death, or whatever! It might have been in the appendixes... Or maybe Wikipedia. I don't really remember. But the fact is, I think it's pretty slimy what you're doing to these people. And for who? Saruman?"

Paige, it seems, had struck a nerve, for Wormtongue at once recoiled at the sound of his master's name, and glanced about in fear.

"Oh yeah," Paige said, drunk on the new power she had over him. "I know your dirty little secret. Don't you think I don't... And now here you've gone and killed Théodred!"

"At that, you are unjust," he said, appearing both frightened and defiant. "I have done many things, but my conscience is clean when it comes to Lord Théodred. In his death in any case..."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

He was about to answer, when a shout arose from within the throng of people. "Make way! I say, make way there!"

A path was quickly cleared. Six men, equal in size and dress to Éomer strode forward, carrying a body on their shoulders. At the very front was Éomer, himself. He appeared irate, but with tears in his eyes. He cast a malevolent glare their way as they passed, and entered Meduseld. A loud bell sounded, and people idled, silently staring at their ghostly king's palace, where his only son would walk no more.

"Ok, if looks could kill," Paige said, half to herself, but it seemed to strike something in Wormtongue, for without another glance at her, he scurried back into the palace.

"Plotting, plotting. Always plotting!" she called after him, receiving a few suspicious looks from the people around her. "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to...oh, never mind."

That evening was a grim one. The great hall was silent with contemplative remembrances, and laments for their future. Théoden King sat slumbering in an aged stupor, seemingly neither knowing nor caring that his only son lay slain, cold and lifeless in his bedchamber.

Great men and warriors stood and sat alike drinking, tears they were not ashamed to show. Women came and went setting food upon the long table, but none seemed interested, and it all sat untasted.

Paige spied Éomer by the fire, his mighty back to her as he stared into the smoldering blaze. Her courage rising, she tread softly and sat down beside him.

"I'm sorry about Théodred," she whispered.

He turned to her, his eyes wet with tears. He simply nodded his head, accepting her condolence.

"He looked older than he did in the movie," she said without thinking.

"I know not..." he began, only to have her interrupt him.

"I mean, he's older than I thought he would be. Older than you and Éowyn."

"Was. He was older than Éowyn and myself. By almost twenty years. But, he was kin, and like a brother to me. Now I have neither brother nor sister."

Well, crap, Paige thought. The guilt rose in her throat like the time she went on The Drop Zone ride and nearly threw up a lung. Taking a quick glance around and making sure that "her betrothed" was no where in sight she said, "Look, Rohan has no king right now. Only a puppet one. Someone has to do something! And I'm pretty sure there's a band of Orcs out there right now that you'd better go kill."

Éomer blinked at her. "Of what do you mean?"

"Orcs. Well, Uruk-hai, actually. Saruman's goblin men. Out by Fangorn Forest. You really should go kill them before they reach Orthanc."

Éomer stared at her so long and hard, Paige thought he had possibly fallen asleep with his eyes open. But at once, they narrowed, and his voice spoke as though it had a razor's edge to it. "What scheme are you playing at, Lady Paige?"

"Huh? Nothing! I'm just saying..."

"What entrapment do you wish me to fall prey to? Is it your intention to lead me to Fangorn Forest, a most dangerous place, so that I, too may be fallen like my cousin?"

"What? No! I just..."

"How very foolish of you," he spat.

"Okay, ew. Seriously, dude... Some of the landed on me. No, I'm not trying to kill you, jeez! I'm trying to help you!"

"Since your arrival, my sister has gone missing, my cousin has been killed, and now you seek to kill me. You suit your betrothed very well. A fine pair of venomous snakes! But you shall not bewitch me!"

At that he rose, and meant to stride out of the room, but for two soldiers who suddenly entered it.

"Marshal of the Mark," one said to Éomer, "news from our scouts. A large host of Orc have been sighted moving across our land."

"In which direction?" Éomer enquired.

"From the east, lord. Moving toward Orthanc," the soldier confirmed.

Éomer immediately cast a dubious eye toward Paige who answered with a look that could only be described as, 'See? I told you so!'

"My leige," Wormtongue began, startling Paige who couldn't help but wonder when the hell he'd gotten there.

The king was startled awake as well, and blinked in a dreamlike haze.

Wormtongue continued. "The Rohirrim are our only protectorate. Who will stand guard over your majesty if Éomer wishes to play soldier? Enough lives have been lost on this fool's errand."

"Play soldier? Fool's errand?" Éomer repeated, and Paige could have sworn she'd seen a spark ignite in his eyes. "When has protecting our lands and our people become a fool's errand? My lord, if there are truly enemies within our borders, allow me to go and destroy them so that they shall never come hither again!"

At this, a great exclaim cried out, and every man there shouted and clapped their approval. All but Wormtongue, and the King.

The King cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to speak. It did not escape Paige's notice that Wormtongue quietly slipped his hand onto the King's slumped shoulder.

"Enemies far and wide, young Éomer," the King declared, but his voice was weak and strained. "If you leave us defending barren fields and tree, who is to guard our kingdom and throne?"

"Sire..." Éomer began to argue, but was at once overruled by Wormtongue.

"You speak justly, lord," Wormtongue interceded. "What would you have of us, Marshal of the Mark? To leave us so unguarded in these times of dark deeds? The king has spoken. You are forbidden to go. Take heed."

Wormtongue stood a man triumphant, but Éomer need say nothing to his Rohirrim. But a glance spoke volumes, and upon his leaving the Great Hall, they dutifully followed, as they would have into Mordor itself.

Paige ran after him, weaving around his entourage of men. "You're going anyway, aren't you?" she called, and he stopped in the passageway. His men halted also, each one casting a curious eye at the maiden who was like none other.

"Why should I tell you my intentions? So you can speak of it to your betrothed?" Éomer replied gruffly.

"Jeez, I'm not like that. You need to go. It's what you're supposed to do! I just wanted to say..."

"What?" he asked, exhausted that so little of what she said ever made any sense.

"Be careful."

He nodded his head, and under the shroud of nightfall, was gone.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I'd love to hear thoughts, so please pass them on!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me a while to get this up here... Life suddenly got insanely busy... But, good news is, this is the longest one yet, so enjoy!**

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**Chapter 9**

Oh, there was hell to pay when Wormtongue realized that his order had been ignored. He stormed around Meduseld, his temper in a high dudgeon, barking at servants wherever he went. He did not appear to even have any desire to refer to Paige as "my beloved", which she thought was hopeful. Perhaps ardor was cooling?

"You've only yourself to blame," she said matter-of-factly that evening, when Éomer still had not returned.

"How am I to blame?"

"Kay, firstly, if you want someone to do one thing, you never ever tell them not to do it, 'cause then they're going to want to do it all the more, just to spite you. You have to use reverse psychology, and be like, 'Oh yeah, Éomer! You go! There are roving bands of orcs running rampant, but hey! Don't you worry about us! We'll be just hunky dory!' See? Like that."

Wormtongue stared at her. He secretly wondered if she were mad.

"What?" she asked. "Look, it's good that he went. It's what he was supposed to do! He did the right thing! Not like you, you bad man, influencing the king like that. Don't you think I didn't know what you were up to, 'cause I saw it clear as day. And your days are numbered, my friend. Your comeuppance is on the horizon."

"Of what do you mean?" he asked, his dread deepening.

"Oh, you'll find out. And Saruman is going to be none too happy with you, let me tell you!"

At that warning, Wormtongue left, his face now contorted in a lurking suspicion that despite all her incoherent rambles, she was ultimately right.

Two more days passed, and Paige began to wonder if something had gone wrong. How long could it really take to travel to Fangorn Forest from there? She found a map in the king's study. It sure didn't look far... Just a hop, skip and a jump.

What the hell was taking Éomer so long?!

The long absence was wearing upon Wormtongue, as well. He appeared to be becoming unhinged, and started at the slightest noise.

He rounded on Paige during one of her many attempts to break into the portal. She had Éowyn's sword in her grasp, and was attempting to pry open the door from the bottom. Despite finding her in a most surprising situation, he made no notice of it, despite grabbing her roughly by the shoulders and demanding, "What do you know? Tell me! Do you forsee the future?!"

Paige was momentarily taken aback, but replied calmly. "Dude, let go of me. You already know I'm awesome at kneeing guys in the balls, not to mention I'm holding a giant badass sword which I have named - wait for it - Badass. Therefore, manhandle me at your own peril."

He was not entirely sure of all that she had said, but decided it best to let her go. However, it then appeared to Paige that Wormtongue was about to pee his pants, because he paced about in front of the door, unable to stand still.

"Why the hell are you so jumpy? What's wrong now?"

"Of what do you know of my future?" he asked, and Paige could discern sweat upon his upper lip and brow.

"Uh...why do you want to know?"

"Do not toy with me... How do you know?"

"Uh...how do I know what?"

It seems he could not speak the name aloud. He could only breathe, "Saruman."

"Uh...lucky guess?" she replied. Explaining would be too darn difficult.

"Lady Paige..."

"Look, Wormy..." Paige was stalling. She needed to say something. Anything. Hmmm... There's something to be said for being slightly ambiguous... "You know what? I can't tell you. It's a secret. Just know that I know. And know that I know what will happen when this all comes crashing down. And it's going to."

"No," he pleaded, growing more anxious by the minute. "It cannot..."

"Wormy, short of you making Théoden his old self again, there isn't a way out of this! And you know what? You really should do just that. No pissing about! You want to avoid it all falling to pieces, you need to listen to me. Restore King Théoden."

But Wormtongue merely shook his head. "You know not what you are asking of me..."

"Oh, right. I know nothing. I'm only the woman with foresight. Well, by all means! Keep doing what you're doing! It's worked great for you up 'till this point! It's not like you have a dark cloud over your head, and despite what people say, I'm sure Saruman is the forgiving-type."

Paige then turned her back to him, and once again attempted to pry open the door.

He stepped momentarily away only to step back again. "Was that...the reverse...psych...what you were saying to me earlier? How to get the person to do the opposite of what you actually wish them to do?"

"Maybe... Why? Did it work?"

"Nay."

"Oh. Well, then shut up."

Wormtongue stared at her. "Lady Paige, what are you doing?"

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"I see," he replied before leaving, but only because he was even more confused than when the conversation first began.

Éomer and his mighty Rohirrim returned the following morning. They marched up the steps to the Golden Hall of Meduseld, and into the King's Great Hall where their lord sat feebly upon his throne.

Wormtongue was already at his side, ever poisoning the King's ear.

Paige ran into the room like a mad woman with her hair on a fire, a true smile upon her face. "You're back! Thank God. You were starting to make a girl worry..."

Éomer cleared his throat and nodded toward the king.

"Ooops! Sorry!" Paige replied, and slunk away to stand against a wall. "Pretend I'm not here..."

"King Théoden," Éomer began, "much have I to tell you. Four days ago we set out hunting a great band of Orcs. We overtook them by Fangorn Forest," he said, his eyes meeting Paige's. "In the heat of battle, we lost fifteen men and twelve horses, but our enemies' numbers are now less by more than two hundred."

"Fifteen lives," the old king said weakly, "so many for such a small accomplishment. And yet great peril did you abandon us in, leaving your home and your king thus unprotected. Have you no care for her? Have you no loyalty for your king?"

"Sire," Éomer continued, "it is with only love did I disregard your wish. If we allow our enemies free passage across our lands, what is to stop an army from marching straight to our doorstep? But I have more news. Is it your wish to hear it?"

"It is."

"Upon our return, we came across as strange a fellowship as ever I should see."

Upon hearing this, Paige gasped aloud. She blurted, "Holy fuck! Aragorn! You met Aragorn!"

Éomer was not the only one to blink surprise. "Aye, so I did," he replied. "Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor."

"Impossible!" Wormtongue spat, but his uneasiness had been heightened in these days of recent past, and he quickly grew fearful.

"That throne has remained empty for a thousand years," the king declared. "Gondor was once our friend but no longer, it seems. And now you give me word that their king is returned to them? False hope, I say."

Disregarding the king's dismissals, Éomer continued. "He carried a sword with him the like I have never before seen, declaring it to be Isilidor's sword, that which was broken and now remade."

"If what you say is true," King Théoden said, "then surely a King of Gondor would have a mighty host with him? An army? Now, that would be an ally most heartfelt to hear."

_Shit_, Paige thought. _This is going to sound bad..._

"He had two companions with him," Éomer conceded.

The king laughed, but it was hollow and cruel. "Two? Then, he be a king among fools, for those be fools that follow him! Were they servants, perhaps?"

"Nay, sire. A Dwarf and an Elf."

"That is strange tidings," the King pondered allowed.

"And they bring ill-tidings with them. They spoke of the death of Gandalf Greyhelm in the Mountains of Moria, struck down battling a balrog of the ancient times."

"Galdalf the Grey - dead?" Wormtongue repeated, his face changing immediately to that of triumph.

"I cannot weep for him," Théoden said, unmoved by such news. "He was no great friend to us."

And then, Éomer said it. Even Paige was surprised. She had not thought that he could be so bold. He said, "You will not grieve for him? Just as you would not grieve for your only son who is dead these five days past?"

You could have heard a pin drop.

Théoden seemed to struggle internally for something, but he said nothing. Éomer approached him, and knelt at his feet. "My lord, I beg of you. Prey awaken from this nightmare from which you hold us! You are a great king; a great leader of men. Every one of us would gladly die at your feet defending you, but you wither away before our eyes, and we are adrift upon an endless sea without your guidance! I beg of you, cast out this wretch beside you, this slithering snake, and break free from his grasp!"

"How dare you?!" Wormtongue spat, his face contorting in rage.

Éomer slowly rose, his temper rising with it. "You, Grima, are naught but a villain who seeks the ruin of his own country! I swear, I shall end you here and now so that we may finally be rid of you!" Éomer unsheathed his sword, and Wormtongue let out a little yelp before hiding behind the throne of his once noble king.

"Guards!" he exclaimed, with more bravery than he felt. "Éomer, you are under arrest!"

Six guards strode up, looking somewhat unsure of who's orders they were to follow, but as the King made no objection, they continued on their duty.

"Under arrest am I?" Éomer said, willingly handing over his sword. "For defending my king against his enemy?"

"For disregarding the King's order, for not bringing back this imposter-king as is required by law, and for threatening the life of the king's chief advisor. You have admitted guilt to all of these acts, therefore you are, GUILTY. Guards, take him away!"

The assembly dissipated after such unparalleled excitement, and when Paige left to figure out where the dungeons were kept, Wormtongue was already upon her heels.

"How did you know?" he hissed. "Of this 'Aragorn'?"

"Duh. Foresight, remember? I'm gifted."

"Is it really he, or merely an imposter?"

"Wormy, look. I've already given you the best advice I can. You have to be the one to decide if you trust me or not. The rest is up to you."

And there she left him, and after stopping a few people for directions, finally found her way into the bowels of the palace, dark as midnight with a few torches along a stone wall, though they seemed to only cast a little light. Paige just prayed that there weren't things such as rats in Middle Earth.

She nearly tripped over something upon the floor, and swearing loudly, she regained her footing.

"Lady Paige?" Éomer's voice said in the dark. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," she replied, stepping closer and her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. He sat in an iron cage, a mattress of straw against the wall, and a small desk and chair where a lone candle burned.

"Bet you never thought you'd be prisoner in your own jail cell, huh?"

"I have been prisoner here a long while now," he replied soberly. "Whatever evil Wormtongue has cast over my uncle, it has turned a home loved dear into something dark and sinister. This room is no different than any other."

Paige nodded her head. "I should have smuggled you down some food or something... A nail file perhaps?"

Éomer blinked. "I know not what a 'nail file' is, but I assure you, they shant starve me. I have more friends in Meduseld than enemies. I shall be well tended, I assure you."

"Oh. Good."

"But, still. You worried for me. Not just now, but also for my arrival. Why?"

_Crap!_ Paige thought. _Awkward..._ What was she to say? Confess to feelings that she knew she shouldn't be having? He was someone else's future husband. I mean, sure! She'd never met Lothíriel, but she assumed she had to be nice. He'd fall in love with her eventually. And beautiful. Can't forget that she was probably pretty damn beautiful.

"Lady Paige?" Éomer asked, watching her snap out of her trance-like daydream.

"Yeah... Sorry! Um... What was the question again?"

"You had worried for me? Why?"

"I just..." She began to lose herself in his eyes again. They were like deep blue arctic pools. She had to blink and bring herself back. "Éowyn!" she declared triumphantly. "Éowyn would worry..."

He nodded his head, but his manner appeared almost crestfallen.

"Say, speaking of Éowyn," she said, grateful in the change of subject, "why were you so insistent that she's not coming back?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"After reading her letter, remember? You said that she's not coming back. Why would you think that?"

Éomer blinked at her. "Why, because she said so in her letter which you gave to me. She does not mean to ever return."

It was as though a bomb imploded in her stomach. Now, she knew she was in real trouble. Was that the reason the door wouldn't open?

"Oh hell..."

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I love reviews, so please drop me a line! I'll also try to get the next one up faster. It's almost done. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Alright, here's where things start to get a bit more complicated. It's another longer one! Please read and review!**

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**Chapter 10 **

To Paige, the day began as any other in Middle Earth. Wake up, wash her face and pits, brush her teeth with a rough cloth, spend half an hour getting tight-laced into one of Éowyn's gowns, breakfast in the Great Hall, and then exploring the palace while trying to avoid a lovesick (and somewhat irritable as of late) Wormtongue.

She had grown pretty accustomed to King Théoden's library. The books were sadly of no use to her, as they were all filled to the brim with runes, but she loved to sit and pour over the various maps he had in his collection.

They were inked on thick parchment, and showed the vast regions of all Middle Earth. She noted the distance to the various places she had read about time and time again.

But this was no sightseeing holiday. No, 'Oh, let's just pop over to Rivendell and visit Lord Elrond for tea and crumpets.' She wasn't sure what the hell a crumpet even was, but she was pretty sure Elrond didn't know either, much less serve them with tea.

This was a place she had best get out of as fast as she could. Here, there was serious danger. Here, there were wars. And trolls. And scary things, like giant spiders, orcs, and Ringwraiths. She really didn't want to see any of those things, and had the sobering knowledge that if she didn't get Éowyn's ass back in Middle Earth soon, things were going to fall spectacularly to pieces.

'Cause one thing Paige knew pretty much for certain: she may be a girl, but she was more likely to stab herself with Badass than kill the king of all the scary-ass Ringwraiths with it.

"Lady Paige?" a voice called at the door. A servant entered. "You are summoned to the Great Hall."

"Oh yeah? By who? Wormtongue? Tell him...I'm out shopping... "

"Nay, my lady. It is the King who wishes to see you."

Paige groaned. "He hasn't set the date for my wedding, has he?"

"I know not," the man replied, and led her through the labyrinth of passages until they entered the Great Hall.

Immediately, Paige sensed something was strangely afoot at the Circle K... There stood strangers in the room, and she giggled upon guessing their identities. Gandalf, clad in white, Aragorn, tall and looking mighty sexy while covered in dirt, a fierce looking Gimli, and Legolas whose eyes appeared to glow even in daylight.

Her eyes then turned to the raised dais where the King stood. Once old and weakened, he had been healed to a man anew. Tall and handsome, he appeared wise and strong. His eyes were no longer clouded with misjudgment. Gandalf had done his job.

Beside the king stood Éomer, tall and stately, but he wore a worried expression. At his feet, cowering and trembling, lay Wormtongue.

"Lady Paige daughter of Harold," the king began, his voice clear and serious, "you are a stranger to this land, and no daughter of Rohan. Is this true?"

_Uh oh_, Paige thought. It felt like she'd been called to the Principal's office. "Yeah, that's right," Paige replied with a stinking suspicion that she was in deep, deep trouble...

The king nodded. No spark of humour showed on his face. "Grievous charges lay at your feet."

"Whoa, wait. Charges? Like, criminal charges? What have I done?" She looked to Éomer for aid. He would not meet her gaze.

"One thing I wish to know," the king said.

"Anything," Paige replied immediately. She'd even have handed over her PIN number for her ATM card at that moment.

A pregnant silence ensued before the king at last spoke. "Where is Éowyn?"

_Oh shit_... Paige thought. _Not that... Anything but that_. "Uh... If I'm being completely honest with you, your majesty...I have no idea where she is."

It was true, Paige justified to herself. It had been nearly two weeks. Éowyn could be anywhere by that point. It was pretty unrealistic to expect Éowyn to be sitting in the apartment, too scared to leave.

Paige watched as the king turned to Éomer, who nodded. "I believe her, Sire."

Finally! Some support that she wasn't a usurping hussy!

But Théoden seemed unmoved. "I am distressed; I am grieved. Not only my son have I lost, but my sister-daughter as well. And whom do I have in her place? A girl who aligns herself with a man who sought my downfall?"

"Whoa, wait. What?" Paige prayed that she wasn't following the conversation properly. That he didn't mean what he was insinuating. "Are you blaming me for being engaged to him?"

"Just as you say," the king confirmed, and Paige could feel her eyes bug out of her head.

"But, that's not my fault! I never wanted to marry him! It wasn't even my idea! He asked your permission before he even asked mine, and when he did ask me, I said, NO! Right, Wormy? Tell them that I'm right!"

Wormtongue, the wretch, who appeared so small upon the floor, stared into her eyes. His own were filled with tears. Though his voice was weak, it also rang clear, and all in attendance bore witness to it. "She agreed to be my wife."

Horrified, Paige could only let out a small squeak and stand with her mouth agape.

"My lord," Éomer began, but was cut short by his lord and master.

"I have heard enough. Paige daughter of Harold, you are no friend of Rohan. I bear you no ill will, but henceforth you are banished from my kingdom, never to return."

Hands were clasped onto her arm, leading her out before she realized what was happening. "Éomer!" she cried, but he appeared torn, and made no reply.

Out of the Golden Hall. Out onto the street, and down to the stables. If people ogled, she had no realization. All she could think of was the pure horror that had just befallen her.

Banished... Banished! Never allowed to return. Penniless in a completely foreign land where monsters run rampant trying to rip out your throat. No friends. No allies. Lost. She was utterly lost. And she was never allowed back in Edoras, to the portal, to her way home.

She cried, and she didn't give a flying crap who saw.

The soldier seemed to have taken pity on her, and led her to a horse. It was the colour of a brown stoney shore with a clean white stripe down it's face. "This is Aróf. She is gentle by nature. However, Edoras is her home. She may not wish to leave it. Make your plea worthy of her."

"I'm sorry?" Paige said, thoroughly confused.

"I know not where you are going, but it is many leagues to leave Rohan. If you wish her to take you, you must convince her."

"Okay..." Paige said, thinking that perhaps he was just playing some cruel joke on her, making her beg. But the soldier never cracked a smile, and took a step back. "Uh, hi. I'm Paige," she said to Aróf, though feeling like a complete fool. "I'm not from around here, and I have no idea where I'm going. I'm not sure if you're looking for an adventure... I'm not sure I am, either, if it comes to that. But, like it or not, it looks like I'm about to have one, and...it sure would be nice to have a friend along the way..."

Aróf stood and stared at Paige. She made no horsely reply, except for a flick of her her ear to the right.

"She's accepted," the soldier stated, and made ready the saddle.

"What?" Paige asked, skeptically. "How do you know?"

"Her movement of the ear. It would seem she is ready for an adventure."

Paige stared at the soldier. "You're having a go at me, aren't you? That's just mean, ya know. Kicking a lady when she's down..."

"Milady, I swear I am not in jest. Aróf is a fine horse. She will not lead you astray. Simply tell her where you wish to travel, and she'll find the way straight enough."

"What if I have no idea where to go?"

The soldier thought a moment. "These are dangerous times... Gondor is friendly, but close to Mordor. War is on their doorstep, I fear. You could follow the Anduin River north to Mirkwood. I hear tell of men-folk living by the Gladden Fields. But...I would not recommend it. That road would take you past Dol Guldur, a most evil place..."

"Where, then? When evil surrounds you, where do you go?"

Scratching his beard, he took a moment to reply. "Go to the Elves. Many fear the Lady of the Wood, but I rather think she might take pity on you."

"Loríen, then?"

"Loríen," he confirmed, and then finished buckling the saddle.

Just then, Wormtongue flew into the sable as though Saruman himself were hot on his heels.

Paige rounded on him, and he let out a great cry, and placed his hand over his balls just in time, for there it met with Paige's knee. "OW! My hand!"

"Oh, right! Your poor hand!" she said, sarcastically. "How could you lie like that?! You sniviling worm! You slime! How could you DO that to me?!"

"I am sorry," he gasped.

"Oh, sure! A fine thing! YOU'RE SORRY! Well, too bloody bad! I'm NOT going to forgive you! You...horse's ass!"

Wormtongue's feelings seemed genuinely hurt, and strode over to a pair of horses. "I am called Grima. I fear war, of being alone, and I am to leave this place, never to return. Will not one of you carry me hither?"

One of the pair seemed to accept Grima's terms, for it stepped forward, and Paige noticed the tell-tale sign of it's twitching ear. At once, Grima began to ready the saddle, and Paige was left in quiet contemplation as to what he had just confessed. To her, he had never seemed so...human.

When suddenly, Éomer burst into the barn, out of breath. "Ah, good. I have not missed you." He carried with him three large bundles and Éowyn's fur-lined cape, and immediately flung them over her horse. "Ah, you ride with Aróf! She is a fine horse! I could not have chosen you a better."

Paige looked up at him. What to say? She was never going to see him again. She just wanted to fall down on the ground and start crying like a two year old in a grocery store. "What are you doing here?"

He looked into her eyes. There was the smolder again... "I could not let you leave without saying farewell."

"Oh. And the bags?"

"Provisions. Food, basic supplies for outside stay, some clothes, and...I thought Éowyn would not mind...her sword."

"You packed me Badass?" she said smiling.

"I...beg your pardon?" he replied, confused.

"I named the sword," she said with a shrug of her shoulder.

At that moment, Grima mounted his horse. "Come, Lady Paige. We must be on our way."

She turned at last to Éomer. "Thank you. Guess this is goodbye."

He simply nodded his head. He flung the cloak over her shoulders, and Paige was immediately grateful for it. Not knowing what else to say or do, she climbed awkwardly onto her own horse and made ready.

"Hey," she called to the soldier, still standing close by. "You. What's your name?"

"Why, Háma, milady."

Paige smiled. "Háma. I remember you... You're an okay guy, Háma, so do me a favour."

"If I am able," he replied.

"King Théoden will need a leader. Someone he can trust. In the near future, he's going to have to make a choice: who to stay behind and protect his people, and who to go to Helm's Deep. I want you to volunteer."

"Volunteer? To stay behind? But, lady...I am a soldier."

"You are a good man," she clarified. "Honestly, you showed me kindness, and I'm trying to repay. If you want to live a long life, stay out of Helm's Deep."

He nodded, though he was not sure why, and together he and the Marshal of the Mark watched the two ride off toward the Gate of Edoras.

"Heed her words," Éomer said before leaving. "I know not how she knows such things, but I would trust her with my life."

"Then, why is she banished?"

"Because the King is blind. Once with dark magics, and now with grief. And yet, I cannot blame him. But, I do fear for her. These are dark times, and she...she does not know her own future."

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**A/N: So...what did you think? I'd love to know! Already have the next chapter almost done, so I hope to get it up in a couple of days. PLEASE REVIEW! Remember, you don't need an account to do so (only if you'd like a response from me!)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry it's taken a bit longer to post this than I wanted - Babe's been sick with his first big cold. All I can say is UGH! However, I hope you enjoy.**

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**Chapter 11 **

The wind. Nothing had quite prepared her for it. Not only did it blow with phenomenal speed and bring forth a chill that reminded Paige of a freezer, it howled, making her feel almost spooked. There was never any telling what lay beyond the next hill.

Paige had followed Grima for a while, but after nearly a half an hour, she slowed to a stop.

He sensed that she had fallen behind, and slowed himself, turning back to her.

"We must make haste, my beloved," he called. It seemed to Paige that he was a true man of Rohan after all, for he sure knew how to ride. "We must find shelter before dark."

"I'm not going with you."

"But you must!"

"Look, Wormy, I'm still pretty pissed at you for lying like you did, and even if I weren't, I really have no intention of meeting Saruman. I've never even set eyes on him, it's true, and yet I already know he's a complete dick. What's to see?"

He cantered up to her. "You intend to go home, then?"

"Home?" she repeated, feeling as though the moon were closer than her apartment in Chicago.

"To Bree."

"Oh, Bree! Right... No, I don't think I'll go to Bree. I don't know the way, and if I remember correctly, it's really far..."

"Aye, 'tis very far, and a dangerous road."

"No, I've decided. I'm going to Lothloríen. I think it'd be cool to meet Galadríel."

"The Lady of the Wood?!" Grima asked, horrified. "Why?!"

Paige shrugged her shoulder. "I think we have a lot in common. We both have blue eyes... Like to accessorize... Can kick ass in a big way..."

"My beloved..." Grima said, shaking his head.

"And who knows? Maybe we'd become BFFs..."

"Paige!" Grima said sternly. The manner in which he spoke her name, snapped her to attention. She looked at him. I mean, really looked at him. He was trembling, and she didn't think it was because of the cold wind.

Shaking his head, he said, "I am frightened. I have failed. My master...shall be very angry with me."

"Why didn't you stay with Théoden? I know he gave you a second chance - don't try to deny it. Why did you go?"

He blinked. How could she not know? How could she not see? "You were banished. I could not abandon you to the wilds. Not when..."

Paige didn't know what to say. "Not when what?"

He took a moment to reply. "Not when my folly was the reason you were turned out. Not when you were right when I was not. I should have restored Théoden. I wish I had but listened to you. It is due to me that you were banished, I could not abandon you now. Not to merely save my own wretched skin."

It was one of the first times that Paige saw some spark of possibility in Wormy. Not for them to be a couple of course, but as a friend. After everything, maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

"Ok, that's sweet...sort of," she admitted. "But Isengard...what the hell would I even do there? How would you even explain me to him?" And before he had a chance to reply, she repeated, "I'm still not marrying you..."

He smiled. "I know. We shall think of something. But surely, it is safer to travel together, no?"

"I guess so. Alright. Isengard it is."

They travelled most of the day, only stopping for short eating and bathroom breaks (Paige having a hysterical fit lest Wormy to turn around prematurely).

It was five o'clock or so when they decided to stop for the night. It was actually finding shelter that reminded them of the night ahead. They discovered a hillock which peaked like a small cliff with a cavern large enough for two underneath it. The horses they tied off with wooden stakes, and were allowed to eat at their leisure.

It had been a loooong time since Paige had been camping. This made her really appreciate how pampered camping in America truly was. They both roamed and gathered up what twigs and branches they could find.

Wormy had piled them into a large teepee and was ready to make use of the flint that Éomer had given Paige, when she said, "No, wait!" and began to disassemble the wood, taking half off. "Only white men make a fire for everyone to see."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's a saying from where I'm from. Well, actually, it's from _Dances with Wolves_, but I think it makes a good point."

"I suppose you are right. We must save wood to last the night, in any case."

Paige looked at him like he was crazy. "You can't have a fire at night!"

"Why ever not? We shall freeze!"

"Kay, if I learned anything from _The Hunger Games_, it's that if you have a fire at night, it's like a giant beacon saying, 'Here I am! Come and kill me now!' No fire at night."

"But Paige, we shall freeze to death. It is starting to snow."

"Oh, I have an idea," she said grimly. "You're going to enjoy it more than me, but we won't die."

When the sun had set, and all that were left were the soft, glowing embers that Paige didn't think could be seen three feet away, she ordered Wormy to take off his cloak.

"Take it off? Are you mad?"

She shook her head, and shed her own cloak, laying it flat upon the earth. "Take it off, and lie on your side. Hmmm... Inside, outside, inside, outside..." she said, pondering which would be the lesser of two evils. "I'll be outside."

"My beloved, what are you speaking of?"

"We're going to spoon! Just...trust me. Lie on your side."

He did as she asked, and she cuddled up to his back and drew his cloak over them both. "Wow, you're like a little portable toaster oven!" she mused.

"I know not what that is, but I agree, it is warmer this way."

Silence ensued for a long time. All Paige could hear was the soft moan of the wind, and the steady rhythm of Wormy's breathing.

"Hey. Are you asleep?"

"Nay," he answered softly.

"Remember the day the king announced our engagement? He called you Grima son of Galway, or whatever..."

"Gálmód," he corrected.

"Right. But I thought your name was Grima Wormtongue."

He did not reply straight away. "'Wormtongue' is a name which those at Meduseld gave me."

"Huh. It doesn't sound very nice."

"No. But, I do not think it was meant to be."

"But, why did they call you that?"

"I come not from a noble house. And yet, even in the beginning, the king welcomed my council before others. Many were jealous of that fact, and used to taunt me."

Paige thought a moment, trying to translate. "They bullied you. Made fun of you."

"Aye. And I grew angry."

"And then you met Saruman...who said he'd help you get revenge."

"Aye."

She wasn't sure why, but Paige felt sad. Sad that Wormy, no...GRIMA, had been so belittled. Sad that he had been put in a position where Saruman's offer seemed so desirable. Sad that hurt feelings had driven a once decent man to do so much damage...

"But do you know what the problem with that is? You hurt the one man who didn't give a flying crap what anyone said about you. Théoden. You hurt him the most."

"I know."

Paige couldn't be sure, but she thought he was crying. She couldn't help but wrap an arm around his waist and snuggle in a little closer.

Sure, she had messed up in her life from time to time. I mean, yeah, she had never tried to bring down an entire kingdom by bewitching the king, but still! Isn't that the whole point of repentance? That someone forgives you?

"I forgive you."

"For what, Lady Paige?"

"Everything. The engagement. The banishment. Poisoning Théoden, all of it. You're sorry, I can see that. I just want you to know...I forgive you."

He spoke no more. Perhaps he was beyond speaking. He simply placed his hand on hers, and then sleep at last overtook them. That night, both their hearts felt a little bit lighter.

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**A/N: So...I'm really interested in your view on this one... Am I stretching the character too far, or am I scratching under the surface? In my job, I am CONSTANTLY faced with abnormal behaviours. I never accept them as face value. Every behaviour has a reason. I can't help but look at Grima and wonder... Why did he do this? Saruman is evil. I never saw Grima as such. Thoughts?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks again to those who shared their 2 cents worth to me about Grima. I think he's a largely overlooked and easily vilified character, but one that I find interesting. On a side note, if you have a Hotmail account, you may be experiencing something similar to me, whereas you no longer get Fanfiction updates. I switched to my gmail acct, and now I'm getting them again. Just a warning if you suddenly notice you're not being notified of updates.**

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**Chapter 12**

Paige now understood why Théoden had described Rohan as 'barren', for in every direction lay not much besides rolling grasslands as far as the eye could see.

Two full days of this, and Paige's legs were starting to truly ache. "Oh God," she moaned after mounting the horse again after a lunch break. "My thighs haven't hurt this much since college..."

"What do you..." Grima was about to enquire, but at once Paige cut him off.

"Trust me, you don't want to know." The last thing she wanted to confess to was that that year she had shacked up with a dumb hockey player, and had enjoyed endless weeks of the best sex of her life.

Upon the second night, a night in which no shelter could be found but for a lone tree that did little to cut the brutal wind, Paige could not help but exclaim, "_The Two Towers_! Why the hell did I have to pick that bloody book! Why couldn't I have been reading _Robinson Crusoe_, _Swiss Family Robinson_, or..._Harry Potter_! Just something where it's WARM!"

Intrigued, Grima asked, "What is a hairy potter?"

"It's a story from where I'm from. Actually, one of the characters in it reminds me of you."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah. You see, there's this badass wizard. So bad, they can't even say his name. He's THAT bad. And there's this man, who was picked on. He sides with the Dark Lord, and betrays his friends. Anyway, You-know-who makes him his number one sidekick. His nickname is Wormtail."

"Truly?"

"Yeah. But, he redeems himself in the end."

"How so? Does he defeat the Dark Lord?"

"No, only one man can do that - Harry Potter. But Wormtail helps him, in the end. Sort of..." Paige couldn't confess that it cost him his life. Somehow, it seemed too grim for poor Grima.

"And was the Dark Lord ever defeated?"

"Yeah. Try all he might, but he couldn't defeat love."

"Love?"

"Yeah. Knowing that the good things are worth fighting for. Love. Friendships. Freedom. The ability to live and let live. Someone once said, you find out what someone is worth by what they're willing to die for. That's when you know what's really important to them. Know what I mean?"

Grima snuggled deeper under the covers. "I do, indeed."

The next day, Paige spotted something on the horizon. It appeared small at first, and she could not yet discern what it was. But, with every mile closer, she could see it was a tower, tall, thin, and cast of stone. She could not help at feeling a little apprehensive because of the wizard who dwelt inside it. And one thing she understood for certain: he was dangerous.

However, after riding to the last hill that looked down upon Isengard, both Paige and Grima stood in awe, for they were not it's first visitors.

Paige smiled. "Of course! I forgot! The Ents! The Ents have come! Saruman is defeated!"

"Of what are you saying, my beloved?"

But Paige merely smiled. "I think you'll find that Orthanc has a new master..." and she climbed down from Aróf and began to stroll down the hill to the gate.

"The Ents are marching two by two. Hurrah, hurrah..." Paige sang as they went along.

They strode up to the now crumbling wall and gate, and Paige at once got to see a marvelous sight. An Ent. Treebeard! Just the sight of him put a smile on Paige's face.

Grima seemed far less brave, and fought the urge to clamber back on his horse and scurry toward Orthanc.

"Good morning!" Paige called and waved her hand. She did not spot the Hobbits at first, but at her cheerful greeting, she could see their curly heads pop up in curiosity.

Even Treebeard seemed taken aback. "Hoom hoom! Strange travellers on such a strange morning."

"Well, we're not Orcs, let me assure you of that, Master Ent," Paige said. "I am Paige daughter of Harold, and this here is my friend, Grima son of Gálmód. We're just...visiting."

"Hoom doom," Treebeard replied, unsure of what to make of Paige's remarks. "Well, maybe you are, and maybe you are not."

"Look, my tree-hugging friend," Paige said, "I'll be honest with you. When I first read the book, I mean...heard old Snaky Saruman here destroyed the trees, I was really pissed off. Honestly! And I didn't think there'd be any comeuppance at the time, but I was wrong. Dude, you're the Lorax of Middle Earth. You speak for the trees! You're here to set things right. And so are we."

Treebeard stood confused. He had received Gandalf's warnings, but this was so far and above anything Gandalf the White had spoken of.

"Merry," Pippin said, "what is she talking about?"

"I don't rightly know, Pip," Merry replied. "But, if she is a spy of Saruman, I'm the Witch-king of Angmar."

That made Pippin chorkle, and even Treebeard cracked a woody smile.

"I'm Merriadoc Brandybuck."

"And I'm Peregrin Took."

"Pleased to meet you!" Paige replied, and genuinely meant it. "Now, I have no idea what time it is in the Shire, but if Tolkien got anything right at all, I'm guessing you Hobbits are hungry. We're starving, as we haven't eaten since last night. By chance have you discovered Saruman's secret treasure trove of food yet?"

"Why, yes!" Merry replied in awe. "We chanced upon it yesterday!"

Paige smiled. "Yesterday, huh? Is there anything left?"

Merry and Pippin exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing. "What you've heard about Hobbits is true, it seems!" Pippen replied. "But, lots still remain! Come! This way!"

Merry and Pippin happily led the way, while Paige followed up on the rear. Grima appeared unsure, and kept a wary glance at Orthanc. He felt as though Saruman's eyes were on him that very moment. But Paige grabbed him and said, "Never mind that, now! Food with friends. C'mon!"

Treebeard watched them go, and continued to break apart the wall, unsure what to make of all that had just happened.

Much lively conversation was to be had during the meal. It had been a long time since Merry and Pippin had been so delighted with meeting a stranger. And someone who appreciated eating as much as them! Paige was an enthusiastic listener, and wanted to hear all their first-hand accounts. Likewise, they were very interested in her.

"So, how is it you know of Hobbits?" Merry enquired. "Most folks in these parts think we are naught but legend or beings from fairy tales."

"But she is not from these parts," Grima replied, the first words he had spoken the entire meal and afterward. "Lady Paige hails from Bree."

"Do you, indeed?" Pippin replied excitedly.

Paige smiled, but at once felt awkward. "Yeah. Good ol' Bree. Uh...you know the inn of The Prancing Pony? I live three doors down from that."

Pippin appeared satisfied, but Paige saw at once that Merry's brow furrowed. _Uh oh..._

However, in the end it cleared and he said, "Well, we are practically neighbours, for Buckland lies upon Bree's doorstep."

"And what of you, Mister Grima?" Pippin enquired. "We have heard much of you from Gandalf, I'm afraid."

Grima at once tensed, and physically recoiled. However, at once Paige took his hand and turned to the Hobbits. "It's true, and I'll be the first to admit it. Grima, here, has been a bad bad boy. Dark forces swayed his otherwise...somewhat-good character. Does that remind you of anyone? Maybe someone you trusted, who made a mistake? Swayed by the dark side of The Force?"

Paige was hinting as best she could at Boromir, who she genuinely thought was a largely misunderstood character, and one frequently vilified in fanfiction, but actually, he was just a man who had a weak moment, and had made a mistake.

Pippin and Merry, however, blinked. "No..." they replied in unison.

"Oh..." And then Paige remembered. Merry and Pippin had no knowledge of Boromir's attempt to take the Ring from Frodo. They had been kidnapped too soon afterward.

"Except," Pippin replied suddenly, "for the time that Merry, here, got me in a spot of trouble with a certain farmer..."

Merry sat aghast. "It was YOU who got ME in trouble with Farmer Maggot, not the other way 'round!"

"No, no!" Pippin argued. "I distinctly remember a load of particularly delicious sweet potatoes..."

"Aye," Merry replied. "Which YOU stole, getting ME caught!"

"Oh," Pippin said, now recollecting the whole. "Why Merry, I do believe you're right."

They laughed heartily at the fond memory of easier times, and carefree days. It was the stark reality which came crashing back afterward that made their smiles slowly fade from their faces. They recalled the dangerous road that Sam and Frodo were on, and didn't feel like laughing any more.

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**A/N: Alright, so who else made the 'Wormtail/Wormtongue' connection? Just me? Love to hear your thoughts, as always! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So...my new year's resolution is to post a new chapter every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. I think this will help me stay focussed. So, look for a new chappie or email each of those days. Sound good? Not exactly sure how many chapters there are going to be. Probably around 30-35. Gee...I'd better get writing! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 13 **

The following morning proved bright and clear, and the wind died to a faint breeze. However, something had to be done...

"I cannot do this," Grima stated, most grimly.

"You can."

"I am frightened," Grima confessed.

"I know," Paige replied. She had pulled Grima away from Merry and Pippin (who she suspected were happily getting high on 'pipeweed', so called).

"You do not understand," Grima replied, seeming to tremble.

"I do. Honestly, I've been there, done that."

"You have?" Grima replied, in awe.

"Yes! Trust me! Breaking up with someone is no easy task. There's guilt, and 'What if this is a mistake?' and 'I'll miss all the good times," but remember! He's what got you into this mess, right? Saruman is what we call a 'toxic friend'. Someone who just bleeds all your good chai dry. It's like a Band-aid. You just gotta rip that sucker right off."

"I know not what you are saying," Grima replied, somewhat frustrated that she was forever speaking in riddles.

"Sorry. Look..." Paige sighed. "You gotta be strong, here. He used you!"

Paige took his hand and led him over to a window. They stood in a guard's tower, overlooking the swampy grounds of Orthanc that still stank with sludge and Orc fodder. "He's just an old man. Granted, one with magical powers, but still! There's a saying from...Bree. It goes something like, 'People only have as much power over us as we allow them.' Saruman doesn't scare the crap out of me, because I choose to not let him have power over me."

"Forgive me, Lady Paige, but that seems a thing far easier said than done."

"Yeah, I'll give you that. Especially since you two have history. Look, I'm sorry. I'm not going to make you go over there. If you'd prefer just to leave without saying goodbye, who am I to argue with that?"

"You are saying that I need not go?"

"Yeah. Skip it. Let the old man rot."

Grima swallowed, hard. He gazed out over Isengard. Once bright and green, now only stumps of centuries-old trees poked out of the quagmire. The tower still stood mighty and imposing, it's stone untouched in the Ent's assault. Its doors remained firmly shut.

"He may put a spell on me," Grima warned.

"What the hell for? I'll admit, his mischief-making isn't done. This isn't the end of Saruman, I'm sorry to say. He does not spend out the rest of his days here as prisoner."

"Of what do you mean?"

But Paige merely shook her head. Of course she didn't want the scouring of the Shire to happen... She hated that part of the book. So much suffering of a culture that were shielded from the horrors of the war and the world. Like children. And children shouldn't see such things, let alone experience them...

And yet...it had been the making of the Hobbits. And Paige wasn't altogether sure she should mess with that. Who knows what the ultimate consequences might be?

"Lady Paige?"

Taking a deep breath, she said, "Saruman is a bad man. I won't look down on you if you don't go. The choice...is up to you." And she strode away.

With sunshine on her face, it almost felt like spring, she thought. But, she could not escape her current reality. What the hell was she doing at Isengard? Sure, one of these days Saruman was going to slither off to Bree and cause all kinds of trouble, but what then? Where was she to go? Was Grima right? Would Saruman simply put a spell on him, making him a willing slave once again? The scouring of the Shire, was it irriversible? And what of Grima? He had changed so much in the last week, Paige was really starting to have hope for him. He was at last becoming a man of Rohan. If he popped in for tea and crumpets with Saruman, would everything be reversed to what it was?

A sudden fear struck Paige deep in her chest. Grima was her only friend in this land of a-billion-ways-you-can-die-a-horrible-agonizing-death. The Hobbits were fun and good for a laugh, but she didn't yet trust them, and she was pretty sure that they didn't trust her, either. Éomer...well, who the hell knew where Éomer was, and even if she could count him as a friend. Hell, she didn't think she was ever going to even see him again, if she was banished from Rohan. Grima was pretty much the only thing standing between her and being completely alone and destitute.

"Now, that's a fucked up thought..."

She rushed back to the guard tower. She must stop Grima! It was too risky! What the hell had she been thinking?! Stand up to Saruman? Was she insane?! He would bewitch Grima who would murder her in her sleep! Or worse, make her marry him...

"Hey," she said to Merry and Pippin, who both appeared doped out on pipeweed, and having a giant case of the munchies. "Either of you seen Grima?"

"Aye," Pippin replied, a large drumstick in his hand. "He left to go see the wretched wizard, himself, not ten minutes ago."

"Shit," Paige hissed, and hurried over to the window. But, it was too late. Grima was already at the door, and she was just about to call his name to come back when the door swung open, and a white hand reached out, ruthlessly yanking Grima inside. The door slammed shut, and Paige's heart sank.

Night had fallen, and Grima did not return back to the guard tower. Paige was starting to freak out, and was pacing about.

"You are surprised?" asked Pippin with another mouthful of food. "From what Gandalf has said of him, I cannot wonder at it. He seemed like a very bad man, if I am being honest..."

"But he was changing!" Paige said shrilly. "He was coming around! He didn't want to be like that any more!"

"Paige," Merry replied, his voice thick with pity, "you are not the first to be taken in by him. He fooled a king of Rohan. What made you think you were any different?"

She stared out at the looming tower Orthanc, its windows glowing yellow with candlelight, her hope fading like a fog at dawn. "It's just that...I thought he had changed."

"Old habits die hard deaths," Pippin said sagely, followed by a massive burp.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Did I get any giggles from you today? Next chapter is longer. Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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**Chapter 14 **

The following morning proved unchanged at first light. Grima still had not stirred from the tower, and the Hobbits were devouring the storage room's contents at an alarming rate. Paige was about to warn them to cut back a little, when another store room was discovered, chalk-full of apples, potatoes, and carrots. The Hobbits celebrated by baking several potatoes in the little wood stove, while Paige looked onwards at Orthanc.

Something had to be done. She couldn't just conceed that Grima had taken her in, making her out to be a fool. Had Éomer been right? Was he really just a worm? A liar? Someone who was just bad to the bone?

With the song Bad to the Bone screaming in her head, she stomped her way across the swamp to the steps of the tower, her skirt hoisted around her waist, not giving a flying crap if anyone saw her bare legs.

She was about to bang on the door when it suddenly opened. There Grima stood, his face a blank page.

"Oh! You're alive, then?" Paige asked, her anger rising by the second. "So, what gives? Was it magic after all, or were you intending this the whole time?"

"Lady Paige..."

"No, seriously! I want to know! Are you yourself, or has he bewitched you?!"

Grima swallowed hard, and glanced behind his shoulder. "I am myself. You must go. Go, Paige. Do not return. It is too dangerous."

"Like bloody hell I will. You owe me an explanation."

"Please..." he whispered, begging her to quieten.

"No! I'm not leaving here until you explain yourself! Why didn't you come back last night?! You know, I was worried sick! I thought..."

But she was cut off by the sudden appearance of a tall man in white. At first, she thought she was meeting Christopher Lee, because he was the spitting image. His eyes were cold and black, and his mouth turned from a sneer to a cruel smile. He looked Paige up and down, and laughed.

"Worm, you have dropped your standards very low if a creature such as this would catch your fancy. From a horse-wench to this..this harlot who knows not when to hold her tongue?"

"I beg your pardon?" Paige replied, not believing her ears. Obviously, all that she had heard and read about Saruman appeared 100% true.

"I give you no pardons," Saruman replied. "You are not worth my breath; you are not worth my time. Whatever wiles you have used to entrance him, they are done with. He has returned to his Master, and we have done with you."

Paige smiled. "Uh, newsflash, dickhead. You ain't the Master of anything anymore. The Ents have surrounded you, and you've lost. Wormy? I mean, Grima? Let's go."

But Grima did not move. He did not meet her eye. He simply stood there like a statue, like a naughty child told to stand in a corner.

And Saruman laughed. "You see that your powers over him are at an end, for all your bewitching him with your feminine wiles. Now, leave this place."

He turned and Paige and Grima were left alone.

"Grima..." was all Paige could say, and for a moment, his eyes met hers, and then he shut the door.

When she had returned to the guard's tower and was cleaning the sludge off her legs, the Hobbits sat with her, busily smoking their pipes, their eyes wide with what they had just witnessed.

"That was either incredibly brave," Merry said in-between puffs, "or incredibly stupid. Why ever would you go over there? Saruman is a cornered animal; the most dangerous kind."

"I had to know for sure," Paige replied, still wiping away. The sludge came off easily, but the smell lingered. She LONGED for a bath. She was beginning to feel pretty gross...

"Had to know what for sure?" Pippin asked. "The Saruman was not to be trusted? That Wormtongue was his servant? That..."

But Paige cut him off. "If I'm an even bigger idiot that I thought I was. That..." Fear started to rise in her again. Intense fear. It was so powerful, it exploded through her eyes in the manner of tears. "I want to go home. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm just screwing everything up, and I'm going to probably die some horrible death in this awful place, and I've just had enough. Enough! I want...a shower! And a Coke! With ICE! And clean underwear! I just need to wake up, is all!"

Paige then curled into a ball and began rocking, chanting, "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up..."

Paige had fallen asleep. Ah, blissful sleep. Except for scary-ass dreams. Grima was high in the tower, and she was standing below, calling for him to let down his golden hair (weird...as the dude looked like a Severus Snape wannabe minus eyebrows). Upon Paige climbing to the top, Grima morphed into Saruman who called her a slut and threw her over the balcony.

Paige awoke with a start.

"You are safe," a voice said immediately. "You are with friends."

Paige blinked. She feared she were still dreaming. "Éomer? You aren't really here..."

But Éomer laughed. "I swear to you that I am. You do not dream."

Paige looked around. They were still in the guard's tower, and she still stank like a sewer clean out. "What are you doing here?"

"King Théoden wished to see Saruman, and Gandalf wished to collect the Hobbits. They are...curious creatures..."

"Aren't they?" Paige agreed, fondly. "They're great for a laugh, but they'll eat you out of house and home. Like goats."

Éomer smiled. "I thought you were to make for Lothloríen?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she replied, "Change in plans. Here's as good as any."

Éomer sighed. "What do you intend to do?"

Paige had never felt so small in her entire life. Friendless, penniless, lost. A tear streaked down her cheek. "I dunno."

"I have spoken with my uncle. I believe I have him agreed he judged you too harshly. But, it seems he has still not forgiven you in regards to Éowyn."

"Yeah, we have that in common. I haven't forgiven myself, either."

He rose up and peeked out the window. "We are to leave soon. We are to visit the tower and then return to Rohan. Come with me. Beseech the King's forgiveness."

Paige rose up, and with her, so did hope. "You think he might let me back? For real?"

"What have you to lose?"

Paige didn't have a mirror, so was forced to tidy herself up as best she could and trust that when he said she 'would do' that he wasn't lying his teeth off, and she didn't really look like something pulled out of a drain.

Climbing down the winding stone staircase to the outside air, Paige was greeted by a heavy horse of cavalry. About twenty men, and at the forefront was Théoden, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn. She saw clear as day that she didn't have a friend amung them, and then a cheerful voice piped up. "Ah, Paige. There you are. Did sleep heal all evils?"

Paige turned to see the bright face of Merry, and Pippin beside. "Yeah, I feel much better. Thanks."

"Our new little friends, here," King Théoden began, "told of how Grima forsook you. Yet, you braved to face them. Why?"

Paige took a deep breath. What were the right words? This might be her only chance to get home. In the end, she decided to be honest. "Your majesty, I was raised to believe that everyone deserves a second chance. The world is hard enough. Every one of us has made mistakes. Some worse than others, but it is how we learn from our mistakes that show who we really are."

Silence ensued, and a cool breeze blew. At length, Théoden solemnly nodded his head. "And why am I to trust you now?"

"Because...I didn't intend for Éowyn to go away for forever. Honestly, there's nothing I want more than to have her back here. It's where she's meant to be, not me. I'm sorry for any part I had in it."

There, thought Paige. She had given it her all, but it seemed Théoden was a gracious king, for he turned to her and said: "Then you are welcomed back into our kingdom, Paige daughter of Harold. Do not make me regret this second chance."

"I won't. I promise," Paige replied, and wholeheartedly meant it.

At once Aróf was fetched for her, and with the company she now rode to the steps of Orthanc. Much had the water receeded, and she was at once greatful for Aróf. She wasn't sure she would have crossed the water a second time with her dress hiked up in the air, at least not in present company...

The comrads-in-arms strode up the 27 steps and bandied words with Saruman the-not-so-wise who stood upon the balcony above. But Paige's eyes rose even higher, to that of a window above the balcony. A ghostly shadow could she see, staring down at her.

There were no words she could say that he alone might hear. No way to get across to him that it wasn't too late. That to overcome obsticles in one's life, you firstly had to be brave. To dare. To try.

She did the only thing she could think of. She kissed her three fingers, and held her arm up in the air, the District 12 solute. She even whistled Rue's little Mockingjay notes for good measure.

She knew he wouldn't know what it meant. What it stood for. And yet, it seemed to spark something within him, for a moment later he disappeared, only to reappear, hurtling a glowing bowling ball out the window. It landed square on top of Saruman's head, smashing the back of his skull in with a sickening smack. His face fared no better, for it was lurched forward and struck the iron railing, taking out his top row of teeth.

All in company stood dumbfounded, especially Gandalf, it seemed, for he didn't even have the opportunity to break Sarman's staff.

Gandalf at once disappeared up the steps, and was quickly spotted upon the balcony, kneeling beside Saruman, whose white robe grew redder by the moment.

"Does he live?" Théoden called from down below.

"Nay," Gandalf replied, in awe. "He is dead." Gandalf rose and turned, seeing Grima stand behind him.

"It had to end," Grima whispered.

"Why?" Galdalf replied cautiously.

"I was weak. I am sorry for it. On and on he was plotting. First Rohan. Then Gondor. Bree. The Shire... Ever planning his revenge upon you. No more. No more."

Grima collapsed onto his knees and hung his head, a man very much defeated.

Gandalf removed his cloak and with it picked up the Palantir, ever careful lest his bare hand should touch it.

"I cannot help but feel that you have altered the course of history this day. Whether that be for good or evil is yet to be seen. Rise up, Grima son of Gálmód. Your king awaits."

**A/N: So, in the spirit of Christmas, I have a gift for you. Another chapter! Please read on, dear reader. Merry Christmas**!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: As promised, a nice long chapter. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 15**

Paige was seriously worried. Éomer had opened up a giant can of worms with this 'forgiving' business. Sure, it had worked, and Paige was eternally grateful that it had. She was allowed back into the Rohan family, but when Grima, likewise, was to be given a second chance to fight alongside Théoden in battles ahead, Paige was worried that Éomer was about to have an aneurism, or that his eyeballs were about to explode; she wasn't sure which. Regardless, his face turned tomato-red, and she could see him grind his teeth in thorough disdain.

After Grima had clambered up onto his own horse, he attempted to catch Paige's eye, but she was strangely forever looking elsewhere. Frankly, she was just too pissed at him for giving her such a hard few days. He would have to EARN her forgiveness.

They rode at what Gandalf referred to as an 'easy' pace, but to Paige it felt hard, fast, and long. She quickly realized that the journey she had taken with Grima to Isengard was at a snail's pace in comparison. She wasn't especially hungry when they finally stopped well after dark. The day of bobbing about on a horse's back made her stomach queazy.

Camp was quickly set, and Paige was grateful for a fire. A large mat made of sheep pelts was laid out close to the burning blaze.

"Here," Éomer said to her, pointing her toward the wooly rug; his first word to her since leaving Isengard.

"Really? Wow. Thanks!" Paige said, appreciatively. She was all too familiar with how comfy a dirt floor was... "But, this is yours, isn't it? What about you?"

"Do not worry for me."

"We could share it," Paige suggested, but upon seeing the shocked look upon his face she added, "or...is that not kosher?"

Éomer scowled. "Would not your betrothed be jealous?"

"I'm not marrying..." but it was too late, for he strode away in a huff, unwilling to hear her reply.

Grima had kept his distance, speaking to none, and choosing to remain on the outskirts of all. To even Paige he maintained an aloofness until the men gathered discussing strategy, the Hobbits were searching various satchels for food, and Paige was at last alone by the fire.

"Lady Paige?" he said, sitting next to her.

She looked at him, gave him the best stink-eye she could manage in her present state, and then resumed staring at the fire. "Incase you haven't noticed, I'm not speaking to you."

Grima was at a loss. "Then, to whom are you speaking?"

"Huh? I mean, I don't want to talk to you! Leaving me alone like that! Wondering all night what the hell had happened to you! Slammed the door in my face..."

"I am sorry..."

"Whatever! See if I care."

He started to rise up when she rounded on him, her face so angry, he could do little but recoil and shield his balls. "Why did you do it, huh? Wouldn't even talk to me. Why?!"

It took Grima a moment to reply. "He said..."

"Said? What?"

"He... He said...that you were a plague upon my mind, and that he would...kill you if that is what it took for me to be rid of you..."

"Oh..." Paige replied, lamely. A comfortable silence ensued, until at last the men gathered to get some shut-eye. Grima at once retreated, keeping a wary eye on Éomer's scowling face.

Paige curled up on the sheep-skin rug, and drew her cape over her. She was snug as a bug with only her head peaking out. Éomer laid down a few feet away, and he continued to gaze up at the ceiling of stars.

Edoras; Paige couldn't stop thinking about it. The portal. A bathtub. Home. I mean, sure! She still wasn't sure how she was going to get the blasted thing open, but she was pretty damn sure now that if all that stood between her and home was a door, one way or another, she was going to get the bloody thing open!

Worse than this, worse than being stuck in Middle Earth for all eternity, was the looming dread of what she knew was to come. The battle on the fields of Gondor. The Witch-king. Paige was sure about one thing: when scary things get scared, you KNOW you're in trouble. And this Witch-king was pretty badass. No man can kill him? Well, Paige may be a woman, but she was pretty certain that she was a chicken at heart, and there was no way in Heaven or Hell that she would be able to do him in.

If Éowyn really had forsaken all of them, what in the hell would she do?

At some point she had drifted off into sleep, and dreamt strange dreams. She was alone on the Palinor Fields, and Saruman was standing in front of her, leaning on his staff and telling her off for being in love with Éomer. She tried to explain that she wasn't really in love with him. At least, she knew he wasn't in love with her, when he suddenly morphed into the Witch-king of Angmar and grew ten feet tall, towering over her. He began to scream...

And when her eyes opened, the screaming continued...

"Whatthefuckisgoingon?" she said in a dazed blur.

Strong hands grabbed hold of her shoulders and hoisted her to her feet. Even in the shadow, Paige made out the glint of a blade.

"It is one of the Hobbits," Éomer said to her, his voice tense. "The fool has been up to mischief."

"Oh fuck..." Paige hissed, remembering. She should have known. She DID know! So lost in dreams of bathtubs and Witch-kings, she didn't even consider the peril at their doorstep, which she knew was going to happen. "The Palantir! He's gone and touched the bloody Palantir, and had a jolly conversation with Sauron!"

All fell silent and still, turning to her, even Gandalf, whose eyes narrowed sharply.

_Uh oh..._

Upon finishing his interrogation of the overly-curious Pippin, Gandalf at once turned his attentions onto Paige.

He strode up to her, his voice barely above a whisper. "This," he said, holding the wrapped Palantir in his hands. "You know what this is."

"Uh...yes."

"How?"

Paige couldn't lie. Not only because she didn't think she'd have a fart's chance in hell of him believing it, but also because...she couldn't think of one good enough in such a short space of time. "Let's just say, this isn't the first one I've seen." There. Close enough to the truth...

"And you know what it does?"

"What? That it's a direct phone line to the Big Bad? Yeah, I know. You couldn't pay me to touch that thing."

"Indeed?"

"Not if my life depended on it. I have to admit, if I'm being completely honest, zombies from _World War Z_ freak me out more than a giant evil eye in the sky, if you know what I mean. But if he's even remotely like what I think he is, I'd just as soon keep my distance."

Upon hearing this, Gandalf turned curiously to Éomer.

Shrugging his shoulders, Éomer admitted, "I only understand half of what she says."

Gandalf let a small smile escape before striding away to speak to Aragorn.

"Zombies?" Éomer enquired after several minutes.

"They're DEAD BODIES," Paige said, as dramatically as she could, complete with hand movements, "that are possessed, or infected with a virus, and all they do is run around, trying to bite other people, infecting them making more zombies. Their eyes bug out, and they gnash their teeth. Rumours abound that they eat people's brains..."

"That is...disturbing," Éomer conceeded.

"You have no idea," Paige replied, giving an involuntary shiver.

"Éomer!" Théoden called, and with a parting glance at Paige, Éomer strode over to the king's council.

Paige spotted Merry and Pippin sitting idly on a twisted root. Merry appeared out of humour, and Pippin frightened. Paige strode over and sat between them. "Hello, my Hobbit friends. How goes it?"

"Merry is angry at me," Pippin replied glumly. A fact which Merry did not argue with.

"Have heart, Pippin," Paige said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "You've actually done Frodo a FAVOUR. You've created a distraction! Now, ol' Cyclops will be looking this way (granted, not so good for us), but much easier for poor Frodo and Sam. So really, you've actually HELPED, Pippin."

But Merry never missed a beat. He turned to Paige, his face dark with suspicion. "How do you know of Frodo and Sam? For we have never mentioned them to you."

"Uh..." Paige faltered. Ya see, THIS was the problem with knowing too much! What the hell good was it? Try and slip somebody some Intel, a warning, or even a 'Way to go!' and you end up screwing yourself. Then its nothing but explaining, explaining, explaining, topped with a big load of big fat lies. She knew sooner or later is was all going to come back to bite her in the ass. And with Paige's luck, it was probably sooner rather than later...

"Well?" Merry asked, snapping Paige out of her reverie.

"Ya know what? I have to apologize. I know of Frodo and Sam because..." Paige had to think hard and fast. Panic! Argh! "I...was...eavesdropping. Yeah, it's a bad habit... I heard Gandalf talking about them to...uh...Aragorn..."

The Hobbits appeared appeased by Paige's confession, but still seemed to look at her with unease.

"Lady Paige," Grima called.

Paige looked up. "Oh! Gotta go!" she sang, eternally grateful for getting out of the hot seat.

"Thank God you called me over," she whispered to Grima. "Another case of foot-in-mouth disease..."

Grima appeared alarmed. "Lady Paige! Are you unwell?! Are you hurt? Must we fetch a healer?"

"No! No! I'm alright! I just need to know when to keep my big mouth shut! What did you want to say to me?"

"Uh...well, I..." he stammered, but his mouth closed like a clam when Éomer strode up to them, giving Grima a look that would make most men drop dead.

"Leave us!" he spat at Grima, who cowered back to his corner like a wounded animal.

It was Paige's turn to give stink-eye. "Did you have to do that?"

"I cannot trust that traitor!" Éomer replied. "I would not think I need explain myself to you!"

"He's said sorry. He's killed your enemy. He's come to fight for Rohan. What else do you want from him? A floral arrangement?"

Éomer leaned in close. So close, she could have kissed him. It caught her off guard. He smelled like leather and rugged man. BO, but in a good way. If he hadn't have been telling her off, it would have been quite sexy. When he did speak, his voice was calm, but sharp as a knife.

"This man's mischief can never be undone. How many lives have been lost because of his meddling? How many families ruined? There are things in this world, Paige, that one cannot forgive. My uncle may. You may. I cannot. He will be the undoing of us all."

"You don't know that."

"No. It is you who foresees the future. Tell me. What role will he have in it?"

Paige wasn't quite sure how to answer that. "Uh..."

When suddenly, a massive shadow passed overhead, and soldiers cried out, sinking to the ground in terror. Paige heard the word 'Nazgûl', and her heart faltered. Éomer pulled her down, shielding her with his mighty frame.

The loud beat of the creature's wings slowly faded, and only when it could be heard no more did Éomer rise off her.

"I came to tell you that our company is splitting apart. Gandalf is to ride now with the mischief-maker, and Aragorn is to take a host of soldiers as well."

"What about me?" Paige asked, feeling much like the baggage she remembered Merry and Pippin describing themselves as in the book.

"You ride with Théoden and myself and a troop of soldiers at first light."

"Ride where? Edoras?" She needed to get Éowyn home - FAST!

"Nay, we are to Helm's Deep."

Paige nodded, as her heart sank. "Great."

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**A/N: So, what did you think? What will be next in store for our poor Paige? Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, so I've already struggled to keep my New Year's Resolution, and it isn't even New Years, but I'll keep trying! Enjoy!**

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**Postcards Chap. 16**

She had just settled back down, enveloped in her cloak when Éomer approached suddenly, stomping out the burning embers with his foot. "We are to leave immediately."

"What? I thought we were to wait for first light?"

"We are to ride with Aragorn and the others. King Théoden does not wish to stay with the Nazgûl so close. Do you?"

Paige weighed her options. Fuck, she was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep 'till next Tuesday. And yet... "Do I want to meet a Nazgûl? Yeah, not so much."

Éomer nodded his head. "Then make haste. There is little time."

One thing Paige knew she had to do, but DISCRETELY, was go pee. It's a dangerous business, wandering off alone in the dark with who knows what lurking around. However, she made a quick business of it, and hurried back to Aróf, who was already saddled and ready to depart.

In fact, all the horsemen were waiting, which put her a bit on the spot. Even more so when Gimli said to her (in front of everyone, no less), "What business did you have in the woods at this time of night, pray?"

"The business of answering nature's call," she replied tartly, while climbing onto her horse (and none too gracefully). "I'm a girl! I can't just whip it out like the rest of you!"

It was dark, but many a man blushed, and gave no further comment.

On and on into the bleak darkness, nothing to be heard but the pounding of hooves on the dead grass below.

Paige was having severe difficulty staying awake. A couple of times her eyes shot open, much like falling asleep behind the wheel. Luckily for her, Aróf was following the herd, and needed no steering from Paige.

Yet so sleepy was Paige, she did not perceive the company slowing down. It was not until Éomer grabbed her reins that she jolted awake. "Whatthefuckisgoingon?"

They slowed to a sudden halt. Even by the dim light of the waxing moon, Paige could see Éomer's face flush with alertness. "Look alive, now!" he whispered to her. "Someone is coming."

"Oh, fuck..." Paige replied, her heart speeding up a mile a minute. "I don't want to die..."

"Courage!" he said, pulling her to the ground, and placing her beside Merry.

Trying her best not to hyperventilate, Paige suddenly held her breath, for she too could hear the oncoming of hooves.

Éomer clambered back onto his own horse and drew out his sword in the blink of an eye. He rode toward the rear, and Paige pitied anyone who would get in his way.

His skin so pale, appearing much like a ghost in the night, Paige could make out Grima artlessly holding his sword. More than once did their eyes meet, and she could easily discern the fear in his. And yet, he inched ever closer to her.

Awkwardly, Paige drew out Badass, and likewise Merry, his little sword, beside her.

"Are you afraid, Merry?" Paige asked him, her own voice trembling with cold and fear.

"I am," he replied. "Hobbits are not bred for battle. However, I think you'll find courage comes to you when you have need of it."

"Really?" Paige replied, skeptically. "Well, I wish it would bloody well show up already."

Suddenly, Paige heard Éomer cry out in the darkness. "Halt! Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

Paige heard voices speaking, but not their words. "Merry, can you hear what they're saying? How come they're not killing each other?"

Listening intently, Merry replied, "Rangers from the north!"

Aragorn passed Merry his horse's reins, and strode forward to greet the newcomers. All men sighed relief; the mood at once relaxing.

"Well, thank God for that," Paige said, sheathing Badass once more.

Éomer strode forward to Paige and Merry. "Rangers and kinsmen of Aragorn. We will be well fortified, now."

"Are we going to camp here?" Merry asked sleepily as Paige yawned.

"Nay. We ride onward to Helm's Deep this night."

"OH MY GOD... This is the longest night EVER..." Paige said, yawning again.

As if by stealth, Grima appeared. "She is in danger of falling off her horse."

Éomer looked at Paige who was falling asleep where she stood. Sighing, he led her over to his own horse, and helped her into the saddle. Paige did not realize what he was about until she was already upon the strange horse.

"I think Aróf has grown..."

"Nay, you are on my horse, Firefoot. You will ride with me, and sleep as best you can." He pulled himself up in front of her, and she immediately wrapped her arms around his waist. It felt cozy, and a little sexy, if she was being honest.

"Bu wha abou Aró?" she said, yawning through every word.

"Aróf? She will ride beside us. Are you ready?"

"Mm-hmph," Paige replied, her eyes closed, already resting her head on his mighty back.

At the breaking of dawn, Éomer at last awoke Paige, who was snoring in a manner not altogether feminine.

"Wake, Paige," he called, looking back at her as best he could.

Blinking in a sleepy state, she said, "Where are we?"

"Helm's Deep. We have arrived. I will find you food and a bed, if you wish it."

"Bed," she replied, as he helped her down off Firefoot.

Smouldering ruins, broken stone, lifeless bodies: it was a blur to Paige's eyes, for she did little but follow Éomer around the debris and into the fortress. He did well, and knew his way straight enough. A long procession trailed behind her, as the company made their way around the workmen completing their gruesome business.

"Lord Éomer!" a soldier said upon seeing the Marshal of the Mark. "Pray tell what you need and it will be fetched at once!"

"We require beds, Hámód," Éomer replied. "Enough for sixty men, as well as the King."

"That is an easy task," Hámód replied, "for 'tis morning, and many beds are already empty."

"Good. We also require that our horses be tended to, and food and drink upon our waking. We have driven hard and fast this night. The Nazgûl were amung us."

That struck fear into Hámód, and he reassured Éomer that he was heartily glad they escaped without pain. "This way!" he then called to them.

Paige would've slept on a bed of nails, she thought, she was so flippin' tired. She had about 5 seconds of wondering how long it had been since the mattress (which was really just a giant pillow case filled with hay) had been washed, but in the end, she didn't give a damn, and curled up in it as best she could.

For once, she did not dream, and was heartily glad of it.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I'll try to write some more tonight and post tomorrow or Friday. Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. My Maternity leave is officially over at midnight tonight. I feel as though I am Lady Edith Crawley, abandoning my baby tomorrow. I am not having a good go of it. Writing is a good distraction, but I've found my thoughts are scattered, and I'm having a difficult time focusing. Hopefully, I'll be back to my old self in a few days. Enjoy this next chapter! **

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**Chapter 17 **

The sun was high when Paige at last awoke. Several soldiers still slumbered silently, much like a ramshackle barracks, with nearly fifty hay mattresses littering the floor. Merry lay near, appearing as no more than a small child curled up for a long sleep. Paige tiptoed out, not wanting to disturb him. She hoped he was having good dreams.

Paige stepped out into fresh air and sunshine gold. If only what she saw appeared as happy.

Destroyed... Everything was destroyed. The deepening wall looked as though it may fall at any moment, and one could easily see the trail from which the Uruk-hâi had invaded.

The place reeked of death.

And suddenly, she was no longer alone, for Gimli and Legolas joined her against the wall, looking out and down upon all the carnage below.

"A great battle was fought here not three nights ago," Gimli told her, proudly. "Many orc necks did we hew."

"Was it terrible?" Paige asked, thinking her voice sounded small and naive. "Was it as terrible as I imagine it to be? I mean, I've seen war, granted only in movies, but still! It is really as bad and terrifying as I think it would be?"

Legolas appeared to smile. "You are so young, and already have so few years ahead of you. Many young lives were cut short that night. Did they know fear? I am certain, for although I have lived long and fought many battles, one always fears that it will be the end."

"I'm glad I wasn't here," Paige replied, as she watched two men load a rotting body onto a wagon. "I'm glad I didn't witness it. I wouldn't make a very good soldier, I'm afraid..."

"But you are a lass," Gimli replied without a second's thought, "and have no need for marching or soldiering."

"You mean, I'd best stay home with the sewing?" Paige laughed, but there was a danger to it. "Way to take me back about five hundred years. Have you never heard of women's lib?"

Seeing Legolas and Gimli exhange curious glances, Paige saw at once her error.

"OK, stupid question," Paige continued, "but still! Women can do lots of things other than sew and make babies, ya know!"

"What more could you wish for?" Gimli replied, but Legolas saw the fire in Paige's eyes.

"I think it time to wake Merry, do you not, Gimli?" Legolas asked.

Gimli grumbled incoherently, and as they walked away, Paige thought she heard Legolas say, "In this, my dear Gimli, allow me to give you some advice: contradict a woman at your own peril."

Sitting alone in a pile of ruins, Paige could not help but feel her fate sink. Down and down it went, and with it, her hope. This battle had been bad. Fierce. Violent. And she knew it was not the worst, for worse was still to come. If it was true that no man could kill the Witch-king, then how ever could he be defeated?

Like a single drop of water in a pond, the ripples were endless. So too were the consequences of what she had started, merely on a moment's whim. How very foolish...

Lives were at stake, including her own. Nothing scared Paige more than death. The pain of it. It's sheer brutality. She was surrounded by bravery, however she had never felt more of a coward in her life.

It is one thing to know who will die and who will survive, and yet, these comrades-in-arms soldiered on not knowing their own fate. Their willingness to sacrifice their very lives for what they held dear touched her deeply.

Was it right for her to abandon them? She was no soldier. To join with them would mean certain death - she could not imagine otherwise. But how could she turn her back when they would risk their lives for her?

"Éowyn, where are you?" she asked aloud.

"Do you truly not know?" a voice said, and Paige turned to see Grima.

"If only I did," she answered honestly.

Grima seemed hesitant to interrupt her solitude, but was forced to say, "The king bade me come fetch you. We are to set out very soon."

"Oh God..." Paige moaned. She feared her bum was black and blue already... "Where to now?"

"Edoras."

And with that single word, sprang forth hope. Hope that maybe everything could be turned around! One way or another she would open the door, find Éowyn and set everything back on track. "Sounds like a plan!" she replied cheerfully, at once rising and strolling down with him to Helm's Dike.

Such a pity that things rarely go according to plan...

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I'll have the next chapter up this week for sure, so you won't have long to wait. Please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Sorry I haven't posted in forever... Back to work, and two days in, my wee babe gets the stomach flu. Then hubby gets it, and then me. I, of course, get it the worst. Oh well. Better me than Babe. Nothing worse than a sick baby... But here is more story. I hope I'll have the next chapter up sometime this week. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 18 **

It was with an unwavering eye that Éomer watched as Paige and the Worm strode down past the broken gate, and approached Helm's Dike. He had an ear for the King, but his eyes were ruled by another. Seeing her so freely with the Worm caused something within him to snarl, and yet, at the sight of her smile sent his way, it calmed. "You are well?" Éomer said, striding up to her. At once, Grima retreated, but not far.

"I'm better. Needed the sleep. Thanks. You?"

"Fair," he replied, wishing he coud say more, but not knowing the words.

"How long 'till we reach Edoras?" she asked cheerfully.

"It is a three days ride."

It was then that Paige spotted Merry crying. Aragorn was on bended knee, speaking to him in soft whispers. Legolas and Gimli stood nearby, their faces solemn. Paige looked around. The hundreds of soldiers were making ready to depart, and yet there was no sign of her horse.

Paige smelled a rat.

She turned to Éomer . "No," she said, resolute.

"It is better. Safer. Helm's Deep will be well supplied and protected, whatever the outcome of the battle may be."

"No!" Paige said, starting to panic. "If Éowyn were here, she would go with you."

At this, Éomer laughed hard. "Nay, she would not. Not only because she is a maid like you, she would also be sensible enough to stay away from war."

"Uh...I don't think she's as sensible as you make her out to be."

"Paige..." he said, taking both her hands. His own were warm and soft. It made her feel a little tingly in her nether-regions, if she was being honest. "Paige, you were not bred for war. Not trained. It would be a lamb to the slaughter if you were to come, and what purpose would that serve?"

Paige mumbled something incoherantly.

"Speak that again?" he asked, leaning in closer to hear.

She mumbled again, too ashamed to properly say it aloud.

"Paige, I cannot hear. Of what did you say?"

"I have to kill the Witch-king of Angmar."

"I beg your pardon?! A Nazgûl?! Have you gone simple or merely lost your mind?!"

"Maybe a bit of both," she conceded. "But no man can kill him. Ask Gandalf! If he were here... But, it's true! No man can kill him, and Éowyn would do it if she were here, but she's not! All you've got is me! I won't succeed, but I have to try. I'm scared of what will happen if he doesn't die. And the King. His life is at stake. Please, Éomer. I HAVE to go..."

"Éomer," Aragorn called, seeing the king now ready. "It is time."

Knowing there may be but seconds left with her in this life, he would just as soon die without regret. He leaned down, kissing her, knowing just moments of bliss in a world otherwise filled with hardship and sorrow.

They separated, and there were no more words. He climbed onto his saddle, having no choice but to follow his duty and his king.

Théoden let out a great cry, and his men answered him, and at once rode on their way. Yet Grima then cried out. "Paige!"

She turned her head in time to see Grima kiss his three fingers, and raise them in the air, the District 12 solute. She answered the solute in kind, as well as a smile.

And then, they were gone.

"You HAVE to let me come, too," Paige said to Aragorn as he sat in solitude in the hall of the Hornburg.

His mood was less than cheerful, his head so full of thoughts. "Our road is not yours," he replied softly.

"Save the bull about me being a woman and a weakling. I can't argue with either of those points. I can, however, say that there is something I have to do one way or another and YOU'RE not going to stop me."

Whether it was her fiery spirit or her firm mind, he gazed at her, intrigued. "Brave words. And what is this deed that none other can achieve?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," she replied tartly.

"And yet you ask me for a favour. We seek a dangerous road. Not one for even the most brave of soldiers. Certainly not a road for a woman."

"Chauvinism aside, I'll assume you're talking about the Paths of the Dead. Yeah, I'm not keen on ghosts, myself. I mean, I used to think that my Auntie Pat's house was haunted in the basement. It was super spooky down there, and I remember as a child always not liking being down there alone. Well, it wasn't until she moved that she told me when no one was down there, the piano used to PLAY BY ITSELF."

Aragorn stared at her, nonplussed. "Forgive me, I know not what you are saying..."

"I'm saying, I'm kinda sorta afraid of ghosts, but even if I wasn't, I don't want to go with you to Minas Tirith. Just to Edoras. And I KNOW you're stopping there for the night on your way to the Paths of the Dead, right?"

"How do you know this?"

"Oh, I know many things..."

Aragorn sighed.

Paige's eyes narrowed. "Look, I can FOLLOW you, or I can ride WITH you. But, either way, you're taking me to Edoras."

"And if I refuse?"

Paige sighed. Aragorn was driving a hard bargain, and she didn't have many chips to play with. She quickly went through her options, and disregarded each one at a time. She could...cry? Scream? Beg? Threaten? Or...

"I'll tell you what. I'll pay my way. You agree to let me come with you to Edoras, and I'll tell you your fortune."

"My fortune?" Aragorn replied skeptically. "Éomer spoke something of that nature...

_Aha!_ Paige thought. _Jackpot!_

"Yes, see? Éomer is a believer. So what do you say?"

"I say, tell me my fortune, and I shall consider if it is worth breaking my promise to a friend."

"Huh? What promise?"

"Éomer seemed to think you might play this trick."

"Really? Well, props to Éomer for knowing me better than I thought he did. But, its a deal!"

Paige sat at the table, and took Aragorn's hand. Turning it over, she looked deeply into his palm.

Of course, she had no idea what the hell she was doing. She had been to a fortune teller once, and now just mimicked what the crazy old lady had said, only sticking in clever information she knew about him.

"I see a long life line. Very long... Longer than many men put together."

Aragorn appeared unmoved.

Continuing, she said, "You have known great loss in your life. Orphaned so young..."

Again, nothing. The man would've made a damn fine poker player.

"Ah, but I see hope. You are in love, I see. With an elf?"

Aragorn blinked, and Paige saw a crack in his mask.

She smiled. "Arwen... It's true love. Too bad daddy's not on board..."

He swallowed. "Aye, but I believed you to tell me my fortune, and all you have said thus far is my past."

"Patience. Sometimes to move forward, we must look back. Alright, let me see..." She looked deeply into the lines of his hand and said, "Your road is dangerous, but you will triumph in the end. He will be defeated. You'll be crowned king and marry Arwen. Even Frodo and Sam live. You have a happy ending, Aragorn."

She sat back, yet he appeared unmoved. "I am sorry, Paige, but hither must you stay."

"What? We had a deal!"

"I will grant that you had knowledge beyond my understanding, but you told me only what I wished to hear. A fairy story. I am sorry. Stay you must."

He stood up, and took a few steps, leaving her.

"You have three children," she cried out, stopping him dead in his tracks. He turned slowly around.

"A son is your first born, followed by twin girls...who look like their mother. And after your long life is over, and you are dead and gone, Arwen will live in Lothloríen alone, all the rest of her life. Missing you."

Aragorn swallowed hard, and brushed away a tear. He again strode away, saying, "We leave within the hour."

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Worth the wait...for a kiss? A short one, I grant you, but Éomer is an old fashioned kinda fella. The dude moves slowly (romantically, speaking). Please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: My little babe turned 1 yesterday. WHERE DID THE TIME GO? It seems just like last week that we brought him home from the hospital... *sigh* Here's a nice chapter for you. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 19 **

It was Paige's estimation that they rode as though Sauron himself were hot on their heels. The horses were doing all the work, but Paige felt exhausted with each break they took. However, she dared not make one sound, not one word of complaint. This is a time when she wisely kept her big mouth shut.

She had never been so happy to see a city (Could you even call it that? So small!) in her life. They at last reached Edoras mid day the following afternoon, and the gates at once were parted for them. For Paige, it was almost like going home. She knew her way around, there was a familiarity about it, and even the faces appeared friendly.

It was there that Hámá greeted them. "Lord Aragorn! And Lady Paige!" It was at her that he appeared the most surprised.

"Oh, Hámá," Paige said cheerfully. "You are a sight for sore eyes! Kept out of Helm's Deep, I see!"

"But...Lady Paige...you should not be here! You were banished from Rohan!"

"No, no!" Paige said at once, fearful that she might be THIS CLOSE to going home only to be locked up at the last moment. "I'm not anymore, I swear! The king changed his mind! Tell him, Aragorn!"

"She speaks the truth," Aragorn replied, though tempted to say otherwise, just to keep the mischievous girl out of harm's way. "Fear not your lord and master's retribution."

"Aye, very well," Hámá replied, though not appearing entirely certain.

It was there on the doorstep of Meduseld that Paige left The Grey Company. She loooonged for a bath, but after all that she had endured, knew it was the portal she needed to get to.

Rounding the corner, it was there that she saw a sight never before seen in Middle Earth. Paige blinked. Was that...a girl wearing a bonnet?

Upon hearing footsteps, the stranger turned, and Paige at once saw none other than her own cousin, Amanda! She was clad in a pale blue dress, with a white velvet spencer jacket and matching poke bonnet.

"Amanda?!" Paige cried, stopping dead in her tracks.

"Paige! What the bloody hell..."

But she was cut short, for Paige rushed forward, hugging her cousin as tightly as she could. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Pulling apart, Amanda replied, "I came back to the flat for some shampoo, and Pirhana attacked me with a loo brush, thinking I was another literary invader. It was then that she told me about you and her newest flatmate."

"Is she really pissed? It was only supposed to be for a couple of days..."

Amanda laughed. "She is, but it's not entirely your fault. First there was me, trading places with Elizabeth Bennett. Then, you with Goldilocks. The final straw came two days or so after you took off, when Katniss Everdean crawled out from under our kitchen sink. Pirhana nearly went mad as a hatter, shoving the poor girl back to District 12 with a bag of crisps, and has since tossed every book in the flat into the rubbish."

"Yeah, you couldn't pay me to switch places with Katniss. I don't care how cute Peeta is..." Paige agreed. "But what are you doing here?"

Amanda looked at her incredulously. "You fly all the way to London to see me, I forget about it, and when I remember, you think I won't try to find you? Are you mental?"

Paige smiled. "It's...just...good to see you."

Giving her a knowing look, Amanda asked, "The door locked on you, didn't it? You were stuck, weren't you?"

"Yes!" Paige said, shocked. "How did you know?"

"Same thing happened to me. Put me in a right pickle. But, it's open now, C'mon!"

Together, they charged through the portal, and at once Paige was transported back to modern times. It was more than a bit of a shock. Here, it all was at her fingertips: shower, tv, cell phone, internet, fridge... All the things that she took for granted, that supposedly made life easier. Apart from the shower, she was surprised that she hadn't missed any of it. Huh...

"Don't take this the wrong way, luv," Amanda said, closing the portal door, "but you smell like a meat locker. You need a shower, right quick. It might attract men in Middle Earth, but here in civilized society..."

"DON'T SHUT THAT!" Paige yelled, pulling the portal door back open in the nick of time. "Sorry... I just need to get Éowyn's ass back to Rohan pronto. Lives are at stake."

"Oh..." Amanda replied. "In that we may have a bit of a problem..."

"Oh, God. What?"

"I think you'd best see it for yourself," Amanda replied, flicking on the TV, and changing the station to BBC 1.

A news program was on, with the reporters talking as scenes flashed from downtown London. A banner came across the scene saying, 'Massive protest at Nigerian embassy in London - At least 3000 is estimated...'

"What does this..." Paige began, but her question was then answered as Éowyn, herself, appeared on screen, giving an interview.

"We are here," Éowyn said, "to fight for freedom. #BringBackOurGirls began a movement, but it has now been so long, and these girls are still missing. We are not unrealistic as to their fate. They have been married off, raped repeatedly, and in many cases, born their abductor's children. They are trapped. But they must not believe that they are forgotten or unwanted after these atrocities have been done to them. We are here to remind the Nigerian government that they are cowards! They refuse to stand up to tyranny, and rescue their own people. We must keep fighting for our girls. We must bring them home!"

With that, a massive rallying cry broke out, sounding more like thunder, for it was filled with rage and sadness.

"Holy crap..." Paige said, watching Éowyn stare back at her on the screen. She appeared resolute and fearless. A true soldier of Rohan. All she needed, it seemed, was a battle. Well, it looked as though she'd found one.

"I gotta see her," Paige said to Amanda. "She has to know what I know. I need to see her immediately. Today. Now."

"Right..." Amanda replied, grabbing her purse and opening the front door. "C'mon."

"Whoa! Like this?!" Paige said, holding up her skirt slightly. It was a dirty, nasty mess.

"Right now, we know exactly where she is. What if she gets arrested? What if she has a fling and doesn't come home tonight? Do you really want to take that chance?"

"Good point!" Paige said, and without another thought, strode out the front door.

In one thing Paige was surprised. Barely anyone gave her a second glance. She believed they merely assumed she was going to the set of some British miniseries being filmed nearby, and was already costumed and makeup-ed up. Though, the sight of her side by side with another girl, dressed from an entirely different era might have given some reason to pause.

Regardless, she ignored all, for she was a girl on a mission. Two minutes to the Tube with announcers repeating 'Mind the gap' every 5 seconds, and five Tube-stops later, and they were smack-dab in the centre of London. The streets were like New York City on New Year's Eve: jam packed, and slightly hysterical. Amanda led the way, however, forever pushing forward while firmly holding onto Paige's hand.

It wasn't until they reached the iron fence of the embassy that they stopped and looked around. "Do you see her?" Amanda shouted above the noise. Hundreds milled about waving sights and shouted, "Bring back our girls!" at the top of their lungs.

Paige looked madly around, trying to see through the sea of faces. And then, she spotted her. "THERE SHE IS!" she screamed, and bolted forward.

"Éowyn!" she said when at last she had reached her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

Startled, Éowyn recoiled, until she studied the face in front of her. "Paige?" she replied slowly, and reached out, giving her a hug. "Why are you here?"

Pulling apart, Paige replied, "To see you! We need to talk!"

"Now?" Éowyn replied, looking around. A man stood next to her, holding a clipboard. He impatiently tapped on it with a pen, which she waved off in reply. "I am sorry. I am just a little busy..."

"It's important," Paige replied, her face solemn.

It took Éowyn a moment to reply. "Aye, very well."

But Mr. Clipboard was impatient. "E! You can't! We have the CNN interview in 16 minutes! They're going to want to get you in position!"

"Five minutes, Kyle! You have my word."

Less than happy, but knowing there wasn't anything he could do about it, Mr. Clipboard had no choice but to let her go.

Éowyn pointed in a direction away from the embassy, and led Amanda and Paige to a café down the street. The place was packed with picketers, but they were lucky to find a table in the back by the kitchen. Noisy, but not like the street outside.

After sitting, it was several moments of Éowyn's stares before she said, "Forgive me. That dress... It was one of my favourites. What have you done to it?"

"I was banished from Rohan," Paige replied matter-of-factly. "Forgive me if I didn't take better care of your wardrobe, but we've been pretty busy gearing up for war."

Paige had expected her to react upon the word 'war', yet she replied, "Banished?! By whom?"

Slightly taken aback, Paige replied, "By your uncle. Right after getting engaged to Grima."

More shocked still, Éowyn said, "I beg your...?!"

"Long story," Paige said, waving it off. "Listen, you have to go back to Middle Earth. This was a bad idea, and I nearly made a royal mess of things. You still have time to set it right, though."

"Paige..." Éowyn interrrupted, but Paige didn't heed her.

"No, listen. Your uncle and Éomer are going to be near Edoras tomorrow and then ride out to war in Gondor. You need to be there."

"Paige..."

"Just wait! LIVES are at stake. Your uncle's life. You have to..."

"I will never go back," Éowyn replied calmly, as though stating the colour of the sky. "I am sorry, Paige, but I cannot."

Paige felt like she had been kicked in the balls again, if she had any...

"What do you mean? You must be joking! Théoden will die! You have to kill..."

"I understand, Paige. I truly do." She took a deep breath. "I have heard the stories."

"You... Huh?"

"After you left, I listened to...oh, what are they called...book CD's. I know what you say will happen, and...I cannot go back."

"But..."

"What life is there for a woman there? I go from one cage to another."

"But you marry Faramir. You live happily ever after."

"You call becoming a wife freedom? To likely die in childbirth after giving birth to a dozen children?"

"Uh..." Paige replied, trying to think of something - anything that would contradict her. But she couldn't.

Éowyn continued. "Here, Paige, I am free. I need never marry. I may be a soldier in my own right! I need answer to no one. I am sorry, Paige. But I shall never return. Never."

Paige swallowed hard. "Well, fuck."

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Is Paige in trouble? Please review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: So, Little Man had a great first birthday, and even enjoyed some birthday cake. Can't believe how fast the time goes... Regardless, new chappie for ya. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 20 **

"So...what are you going to do?" Amanda asked after several minutes.

Éowyn had already left after apologizing once more, and Paige sat there in a dazed stupor. They had ordered tea, but it sat upon the table untouched.

"I'm scared for them," Paige admitted. "I've seen how things change from the books. For good and bad. If the Witch-king isn't defeated, the war might be lost." Almost to herself, she whispered, "I can't let that happen."

"It's just a story," Amanda replied. "It's not worth your life."

Paige turned to her, sharply. "Just a story? Tell me, is Jane with Bingly? What about Elizabeth Bennett and Darcy? What are you still doing there? Who are you with? Wickham? What, did he turn out to be not such a scoundrel after all?"

"Point taken," Amanda replied, ignoring all the questions she'd rather not answer. "So, then what do you mean to do? Fight in a war? I'm sorry - I didn't realize you had joined the marines since we last spoke."

"No, I haven't, but I have to try. Amanda, I have to try. These people...they mean something to me."

"In that case, what we need...is a plan."

They then spent the next thirty minutes drinking their tea while receiving more curious stares by customers around them.

"I need a gun," Paige said emphatically. "Can you get me a gun? A big ass gun with big ass bullets. Something that would scare the pants off His Deadliness."

A grey-haired lady wearing pointed glasses turned sharply towards Paige.

"Shhh!" Amanda warned. "You'll get us arrested. And no! I can't get you a gun! I know in America you can buy a bazooka at bloody flea markets, but in England, they're kind of restricted."

"Well, more's the pity for that, because what the hell am I going to do? I couldn't weild a sword to save my life. I'd be more likely to kill myself with Badass. I need some twenty-first century help killing the Big Bad!"

"Hedge-trimmer?

"Maybe he's scared of needles?"

"Circular saw?"

"A Rottweiler? Those dogs are SCARY!"

"Oooh, chainsaw!"

"I can't kill someone with a chainsaw! I don't even like horror movies. Talk about your gruesome yuk!"

"Well, what then?" Amanda replied. "'Cause I'm fresh out of ideas that won't be horrific. Eveything will be horrific because killing is horrific. War is bloody, and violent, and terrible. Sometimes necessary, it's true, but for SOLDIERS, Paige. Not a girl who knows how to shadow her eyes and play the clarinet. Might be time to reconsider."

Paige thought hard about everything Amanda had said. She was right. Paige knew she was right, and couldn't argue with her. It was all true. "Except," she said at last, "some things are worth dying for."

They went back to Amanda's flat in silence, for neither knew what more to say. One offer that Paige was quick to take her cousin up on was a BATH!

Hot glorious water! It had been the stuff of Paige's dreams, and here she was in a baby blue bathtub in sheer heaven. It felt so awsome, she filled the bath a second time. Hey, when your days are numbered, why not indulge a little, right?

She stepped out of the bathroom wearing her disgusting old dress. It made her feel dirty again just putting the stinking thing back on, but she knew in five minutes, she'd be back in Éowyn's bedroom in a fresh nightgown, so she suffered through it.

Amanda was standing by the linen cupboard, the door still ajar. She held something small and black in her hand... "This isn't much. It's no gun, but it's all I can think of to give you the upper hand. Hopefully, you won't have reason to use it, but you never know. It just might save your life."

Paige took it, giving it a good look-over. This might save her life? How?! "I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell is it?"

"It's mace. You know, spray it in the eyes of an attacker. Pepper spray!"

"Thanks," Paige replied, smiling halfheartedly. She couldn't bare to admit to Amanda that she doubted it would work on dead guys. However, it was better than nothing, so she took it with her.

Amanda pulled her into a strong hug. "Be careful, you hear? Don't try to be a hero. When you're in danger, you be like Forest Gump, you understand? You run the bloody hell out of there."

Paige smiled. "I will."

They separated, and Paige walked through the portal, shutting the door to her world of freedom behind her as she went.

Paige contemplated burning her nasty old dress, but thought the wiser of it, and instead left it in a stinking heap upon the floor. She pitied the poor washer woman whose job it would be to get that thing looking clean and tidy again...

Sleep. But, less than blissful, unfortunately. She kept having scary-ass dreams where she was alone on the Palinor Fields, and the Witch-king flew in on his winged dinosaur. Amanda appeared, shouting, 'Run, Forest! Run!' Paige tried to flee as best she could, but she ran smack-dab into Éomer. She tried to explain why she had to get away, but he simply told her off for not using a spatula to kill the Witch-king.

She awoke with a start to daylight streaming into her bed chamber. Night was over; day had begun. This was the day that Théoden and Éomer would be arriving close to Edoras. She wondered if Aragorn and the others had already left for the Paths of the Dead.

Pushing her uneasiness aside, she got up and started her morning routine.

Boy, it sure felt weird to have Meduseld so empty. She wandered from empty room to echoing halls, and the only people she saw moving about were servants.

At last she stepped out into the warming spring air, where two lone guards stood, defending their king's deserted halls. They were both young and old, for one seemed barely in his manhood, and the other nearer a grandfather's age. She nodded hello as she passed them, and they smiled in return.

From the great stone steps she looked out over Edoras, and beyond. Strange that she had struggled so greatly to reach the place in a bid to leave it forever, only to be pulled back. But this was her choice, and she knew it. Stories, she knew, don't just stay as empty words on a page. They can become all-consuming. Characters become friends. We weep at their losses. Rejoice at their triumphs. Mourn when the book is over, and our friends are gone. But for Paige, she had never been closer to a world she had only dreamed about. It was worth the sacrifice.

"Lady Paige?"

She turned to see Háma dressed in his miliary gear. "We leave for Dunharrow, m'lady, within the hour. Lord Aragorn brought word with him that King Théoden is to arrive there and muster what forces he can. Those that can ride shall go to him hither."

"Yes, I understand. Thanks, Háma. Good luck."

He nodded his head, and turned away to make ready. Paige, likewise turned and headed back into the Golden Hall. The first maid she saw she ruthlessly grabbed by the arm, and the girl gave a little shriek.

"Shhh!" Paige commanded. "What's your name?"

"Gálwyn, m'lady."

"Well, pleased to meet you, Gálwyn. They're riding out soon, and I mean to go with them."

"You, m'lady?"

"Yes. And YOU'RE going to help me."

The maid's eyes grew wide with awe and fright upon such a thought, for she knew not what was required of her, but she eased upon discovering that it was only to find Paige some men's clothes and armor that would fit.

Upon helping Paige dress, the maid stood back and looked at her.

"Well? What do ya think?"

"You appear a little young to be a soldier, and a trifle short at that."

"Can't be helped. I doubt anyone will notice. This is the big one, Gálwyn. The big battle. Théoden will need every body. I doubt he'd send me back for being too young and short. For being a girl, maybe, but I doubt otherwise."

"Well then, it will serve, m'lady. I daresay even Lord Éomer would not recognize you."

"Good, because if he does, he'll have a conniption."

Blinking, Gálwyn wasn't altogether sure what a conniption was, but regardless, she fastened the lady's sword onto her belt as Paige slipped the mace into her pocket. Together, they walked out of the great hall. Paige noticed that the two soldiers no longer stood at their posts. No doubt, they too, were preparing to fight and say their last goodbyes.

"Say, listen," Paige said when she was about to go down the stairs. "Éomer is going to live through this. At least, he'd better... When he comes back and sees that I've gone, can you give him a message for me?"

"Certainly, m'lady."

"Tell him... Tell him...it's been fun, but I've gone home. Can you remember that?"

"You mean, you don't wish him to know you have gone to battle?"

"No. It'll be better this way."

Gálwyn didn't altogether agree with that, but casting her own doubts aside, she nodded her head. "I shall not forget."

"Good. Take care of yourself, Gálwyn."

"And you of yourself, m'lady."

Turning, Paige then strode down the street to the stables as her fate drew ever nearer.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? What will be next in store for our Paige? And how on earth might she defeat the Witch-king? PLEASE REVIEW!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Soooo sorry it's taken me so bloody long to get this one up! I was über sick on the weekend, and didn't feel like doing much except lying down and resist the urge to throw up. Ugh. Better now, though, and I bring more story. Hope you enjoy!**

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**Chapter 21 **

Paige approached the stables where Aróf was housed, and a great many men were making their horses ready. Paige wove in amungst them, trying to blend in with the crowd. She felt a bit like Mulan in her attempts to be manly. None seemed to heed her however, and simply went about their business.

Aróf started when this strange boy approached, but settled immediately upon hearing Paige's calm voice. "Shhh! There there, Aróf. It's me. It's just a disguise. Shhhh! There, there."

However, Paige's heart faltered upon seeing that Aróf had not been saddled. I mean, sure! Paige had seen others do it several times for her, but she had never had to do it herself. Suppressing the urge to tilt her head, bat her eyelashes, and girlishly ask someone to help her, she took a deep breath and picked up the saddle.

And then dropped it. Fuck, it was heavy! How the hell was she going to get it way above her head and onto a bloody horse?!

"Stand back, boy!" a gruff voice commanded.

It took Paige a few moments to realize he had meant her, and she shuffled back in surprise. They sized each other up. He was old - far too old, Paige thought, to be marching off to war. His beard was long with lots of white, as was his hair.

"You have seen far too few summers to go to war," the old man said gruffly. "When do you become a man?"

"Uh..." Paige replied, her mind racing. "Uh...next summer?"

"Summer next, eh?" he said, skeptically, sizing her up and down. "I daresay it is five summers off, at the very least! Why do so wish to be killed, eh boy? Perhaps you had best stay home with your mother, and live a long life. Where we go, you've not a chance. We go to face the REAL monsters, now. Slit your throat quick as look at you. Not a place for milksops like yourself. Go on, be off with you now."

But Paige did not move, and instead held her ground. "Kay, I don't know what a 'milksop' is, but I'm guessing it's degrading, so that's just rude. And anyway, dude, what do YOU care if I'm off to die? Huh? I want to fight and do my part. You got a problem with that?"

Glaring, and not knowing what to make of the strange boy, he began to turn away, but Paige stopped him, quickly.

"Say, but before you go, would ya mind helping me saddle my horse? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Where are you from?" the man said, baffled.

"Bree," Paige replied.

Nodding in understanding, he pushed Paige aside, and bent down to pick up the saddle. "I have heard stories of Notherners. They appear to have been true. Tell me, are all your countrymen mad?"

Paige blinked. "'Mad' as in 'GRRR!', or 'mad' as in 'coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs'?"

But the old man did not reply, and continued on saddling the horse, surmising to himself that it was an, 'Aye. We are all mad.' When he was finished he simply said: "War. Have you seen it, boy?"

"Not first hand, no. But I have like in movies and stuff, like Saving Private Ryan, and Lord of the Rings. Duh, right? But I'm thinking this is going to be more like Rome, which kinda freaks me out a bit, because I hate paper cuts, never mind cuts from..."

"Silence," the man commanded softly, and took a deep breath. "Courage. Every soldier needs it. But look not for it here," he said, poking her heart (and her boob a bit, if we're being honest). "Or here," he continued on, poking her in her stomach. "Look here," he said, at last poking her on her forehead. "It is there that your fear dwells. But courage must overcome all fears if it is to be victorious. Think not of saving your life. Accept that you are dead already. And then fight. Fight knowing your fate. Embracing it. Then... Then you shall find your courage."

Paige swallowed. And suddenly noticed that the barn was unusually quiet. She glanced around, and all eyes were upon them.

Yeah, this was the kind of attention that she had wanted to avoid...

"Thanks," she said dully at last. "I'll remember that. I promise."

He simply nodded his reply and strode away, and instantly, the barn became alive again and men began to mount their horses and depart. Paige had just clambered awkwardly onto Aróf when she heard a horn blast. Others heard it also, for they immediately began to trot out, and answer the call with their own horn blasts.

It was time.

Knowing full well there was no turning back now, she followed the others out, and down through the gate and out into the vale.

Kay, she didn't know where the heck Dunharrow was, but it turned out, it wasn't far. Just a few hours ride from Edoras. They arrived, nearly a thousand men amungst them, to a sweeping valley with mountains high bordering the distance.

But the valley was not empty. It was filled with soldiers, at least ten-thousand strong. Paige knew she could easily get lost in the sea of soldiers and horses, and so never let Háma out of her sight, for she knew, in the place of Éowyn, it would be Háma to welcome the king to Dunharrow.

Paige watched as they rode to a high pavilion, and knew that was where the king would go, so there it was that she made up camp.

And then the waiting started. In the hours that followed, she thought of many things. Of home, and family. Of the land surrounding her with it's massive black stones, protruding from the earth like giant teeth, ready to swallow them all up. But mostly, she thought of Éomer.

Would he miss her when this was all over? He had kissed her, and it had felt like a dream. But she knew he was destined for another. Who was she to mess with that? She had already messed up so much.

Would he cry upon finding her body, like he found Éowyn's in the movie? Try all she might, she couldn't remember what happened in the books... Would he ever discover her fate, or to him, would she have merely disappeared, as though she had ever truly existed?

She was beginning to feel as though THEY were the real ones, and SHE were the fictional character, which made her feel a little queezy.

And then, with the sinking of the sun, she heard the call. The king and his riders - Éomer - had arrived.

They rode up and were greeted by Háma, of which she had a perfect view. Her heart soared upon seeing Éomer. He appeared serious, but pleased upon seeing the numbers of soldiers. He turned, surveying the land, and she cast her head down quickly as she felt his eyes sweep past her.

How she wanted to go to him. Feel his strong hands upon her shoulders again; his soft lips touch hers.

But he wouldn't understand. Wouldn't listen. And so, she kept her distance, her heart leaping upon hearing his voice in the distance. For she would have recognized it anywhere.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I hope to have another chapter up this week. Please review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Yeah, it took me another week. Sorry. These later chapters are getting tricky. Here's more story, however! Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 22**

Merry was crying, that Paige could clearly see, despite the unnatural dark that had cast a shadow over all. Merry was clad in his little armor gear, and she could only guess that Théoden had at last told him that he would not be riding with him into battle.

This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for.

She strode up to him, and readied to deepen her voice. "Why do you weep, little one?"

Merry's tear-streaked face looked up at the young soldier. "The king commands that I am to stay behind. But I wish to fight along side him. I have no wish to be left behind."

"Then you shall ride with me!"

Merry smiled, but it quickly faded from his face. "Paige? Is that you?"

"Aw, man! How'd you know it was me?"

"A child could see that it was you. But, what do you do here?"

"I'm like you! Want to fight, but not allowed. C'mon! We'll infiltrate together and help in our own ways. What do ya say?"

His spirits rising, Merry replied, "I should as soon ride with you rather than be left behind like unwanted baggage. But, suppose we are caught?"

"Another example of gain outweighing the risk. C'mon! They're moving out. We need to blend."

Paige rode hard to keep the pace of the king's men, and if anyone noticed Merry, like in the books, they ignored him. But, Merry and Paige were glad of each other's company, and though Paige remembered Merry feeling quite lonesome in the books at this time, his spirits seemed to fare better when there was someone willing to talk back to.

Night had come, if it was only a slightly darker version of day. Camp had been set, and Merry and Paige made a fire and set their stores away from the rest, but within view of the king's pavilion.

They had eaten (Merry moreso, but she couldn't begrudge him that. The Hobbit had two empty legs, after all...). Merry pulled out his pipe, and sat smoking it, the smell reminding him of home. To banish his melancholy, he said, "So, tell me Paige. Are you in love with Éomer?"

It was a pity that Paige had been drinking at the time of Merry's question, for she choked in a most ungenteel way upon hearing it. Coughing profusely, she replied, "I don't know what you mean."

"I rather think you do, whether or not you wish to admit it. Our Sam is love with Rosie Cotton. A blind Hobbit could see it. So it is with you and Éomer."

"I don't know about that," Paige said, looking away, only to see Éomer exit the king's pavilion, and take the night air. Paige quickly put her helmet back on, and her heart did a little flutter. She suppressed a girlish sigh that was dying to escape.

"Fear not. I believe him to be partial to you, too."

Paige smiled, but it slowly faded from her face. "Éomer is spoken for."

"Really?" Merry said, surprised. "I had not known. But...he kissed you."

"Well, if I'm being honest, he doesn't know it yet either, but he is. It's been foretold. Some gorgeous stick-insect that he'll meet at Aragorn's coronation."

Merry's brow furrowed. There were many things about what Paige had declared that he wished to know more of. "Aragorn's coronation? Then, he will be crowned king of Gondor?"

"Oh, yeah! Don't you worry your curly head about that! Consider that a done deal."

Pausing in blinking contemplation a moment, Merry replied, "So, you say that Éomer is to meet and fall in love with a lady?"

"Yup."

"And he does not know this?"

"Nope."

"But you do?"

"Yup."

"Forgive me, but I find it difficult to believe that one can fall in love with another person when one is in love already."

"What do you mean?"

Merry sighed. "His future may have been foretold, but I believe that we are the masters of our own destiny. After all, what if he meets this lady, and feels naught for her?"

"Impossible. She'll be beautiful. Like, supermodel beautiful. Someone worthy to be the next queen of Rohan. Someone...who's pretty much the exact opposite of me."

Paige's heart sank. Deep down, she knew that's who he should be with. Who he DESERVED to be with. Not her.

But Merry definatly shrugged his shoulder. "Strange, for I have never heard of someone, Hobbit or Man, who fell in love with their head. It was always with their heart. And a funny thing about the heart, it cannot be governed. It knows no logic. It is it's own master."

Paige knew he was just trying to help her. Give her hope. But somehow, it had the opposite effect. It only solidified what she thought already. That she had messed up this story enough already.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter, anyway. I'm sure I'll be dead by then, because even if I'm to survive this battle, kill the undead (like THAT'S going to happen!), and woo Éomer away from the most beautiful woman he'll have ever seen, that STILL doesn't change the fact that...it's impossible. 'Cause I'll be dead."

"You appear very certain of your own demise. Has it, too, been foretold?"

"No, but for a girl who isn't good with knives, I think me battling one of the biggest badasses in Middle Earth with a giant sword is pretty much a done deal, don't you?"

But Merry, it appears, was quite lost. "Paige, I do not follow. You say you are to fight a great warrior? Who? And, why must it be you? How can you know this?"

Paige sighed. "Kay, that would take a lot of explaining...and even if I told you, I don't think you'd even believe me."

But Merry only smiled knowingly. "Like when you said you were from Bree?"

Paige snapped to attention. "What...do you mean? I am from Bree. Six doors down from The Prancing Pony."

"You said 'three doors down' last time, and regardless, 'three' would put you in a barn, and 'six' would put you in a pasture!"

"Oh."

Merry took another long puff on his pipe. "Let me explain something to you about Hobbits. We love a good story."

It was late by the time Paige had finished telling Merry everything. Too late to discuss matters, for they knew they had a full day of riding ahead. When dawn came, no dawn was there to be seen, for there was little more than dull twilight above them. Regardless, they stripped their camp, and hurried to make ready for another long ride.

Merry was dying to ask more questions. Every time he thought of another one he wished to ask, three more popped into his head. When at last they stopped for the second night, he eagerly took his advantage.

"So...you said before that Éowyn, were she here, would kill the Witch-king?"

"Yup."

"Have you ever seen a Ring-wraith, Paige? Up close?"

"No... Oh, but you have, haven't you? At Weathertop."

"Aye," Merry replied, and shivered involuntarily. Secretly, he wondered if someone was walking over his grave... "They are fearsome to behold. You have not known fear until you have see them."

Paige's heart sank. She knew what he was saying was beyond true, but it did little to steel her nerves. "Goody. Sounds like I'm in for a treat."

"But why must it be you?"

"I told you. The dude can't die. No man can kill him."

Merry blinked. "But why put yourself in harm's way to begin with?" And then something appeared to dawn on his young face. "Whom are you protecting? Is it Éomer? Is that whom you are trying to save?"

"Not Éomer..."

"But, who? Come, Paige. You must tell me."

Swallowing, Paige said, "In the book, Éowyn risks her life to save Théoden. The Witch-king is defeated."

"And King Théoden?"

But Paige simply shook her head. "He doesn't make it."

Just then, Merry's eyes turned to see the king, himself, standing outside his pavilion, a goblet in his hand. He appeared to be staring at the night sky with some unease.

"But we know what will happen," Merry said, wiping away a tear. "We know, so we can change it!"

"Dude, that's why I'm here. But look at it realistically for a sec. I'm no iron-maiden, or whatever, like Éowyn is. If she couldn't save Théoden, how can I?"

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Will Paige and Merry be able to hatch out a plan to save Théoden and kill the Witch-king? Will Éomer discover that Paige is in the camp? Tune in next time for more story! In the meantime, please review!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Kay, so I tried posting yesterday, but the site was having site errors. GRR! Glad it's up and running again today! So, this is it. The chapter you've been waiting for. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 23**

On the dawn of the third day, the mood around camp had changed. There was no true dawn, but all there sensed what was in store for them. Today, they were near enough for battle. Today meant war.

Not a word was spoken between Merry and Paige, for nothing more needed to be said. She had told him that he would survive, but try as he might, he thought she said it merely out of pity, and so treated each act as though it were his last.

For them, they had a plan, weak and feeble though it may be. The previous night they had fought long regarding who exactly would sacrifice their own life for Théoden's. The person would be required to sprightly jump in front of the impending dart intended for Shadowmane, the king's horse, thus fatally injuring the king in the process.

"I'll do it," Paige said resolutely. "It's my idea. It should be me."

"Nay, I will," Merry countered. "I am Esquire of Rohan, and the King's Holdwine, after all..."

"So? You say that like it's important, or something. I owe him one. Beat that."

"Owe him what?"

"He took me back after banishing me. The dude is a benevolent king. This is the least I can do."

"Pathetic," Merry spat. "He honoured me above all others. It should be me that dies for him."

"Oh, because you got to sit at his feet and tell him stories you think you're worthy enough to die for him? As if!"

In the end, it was agreed that whomever was closest at the time would jump first. Paige still thought she had the advantage being that Merry was so very short.

But now, in the dawn that was no day, all such talk was hushed, for not even a bird's song broke the silence. Like all those around them, there was naught to do but gather what little they had, climb onto their horses, and wait for the call.

"Paige," Merry whispered, his eyes watching the king who was already atop his horse and making words with Éomer. "Are you afraid?"

"So much I could pee myself," Paige confessed. "But, I don't think we know true fear, yet. Not until we're in the thick of it. Not until it's standing right in front of us."

"But that is also where courage can be found."

Paige shrugged her shoulder, and the king made his sounding call with his horn. It was time. All around them, men yelled for king, victory, and Rohan.

"We'll see."

For Paige, the battle came all too soon. Where had the days of never ending riding gone? Why had she taken them so for granted? Now, she could see scary things, creatures, ORCS right in front of her with her own eyes.

She desperately wanted to turn, run, go screaming in the opposite direction, like the time she found a mouse in her toaster.

"Keep close to him!" Merry shouted, snapping her to attention, and she veered Aróf over to be nearer the king.

And then, the fighting began.

At once, Paige knew she was in trouble. Aróf was a powerful horse, and being no skilled horse-woman, Paige needed two hands on the reins to prevent herself from going flying. Soldiers nearby held on fast with a single hand, and in the other, weilded their mighty swords. Badass, she likewise knew, required both hands.

"Hold on, Merry!" she commanded, and instead decided to stay as closely as she could to King Théoden's wake for as he passed, all his enemies fell by the wayside. "Closer, Aróf!" she commanded, and the horse immediately obeyed.

"It's working!" Merry cried, but at once was silenced, for they had at last neared the Gate to Minas Tirith. "Paige! Paige, look! The Gate! It's time! It's time!"

Paige quickly slowed to a halt, and clambered down as quickly as she could. She pulled off Merry, and together they drew their swords and tried to appear brave. Above them, the darkened skies began to clear, as though Théoden brought with him the turning of the tide.

And then it came, and all about them were in terror. Merry tumbled to the ground, Aróf reared and bolted as though her tail were on fire, and Paige thought she felt her very own spine crack. She could not help but crumble to her knees.

Looking up, she saw it. Like a nightmare made real, it was terrible to behold. A giant winged monster hovered in the air with its long neck and razor sharp teeth. Worse yet was its smell, for it stank worse than a summer camp outhouse in sweltering August heat. But upon its arrival, Paige knew what was to happen next. She pushed onto her feet with all of her might, and ran toward the king.

Each step seemed to take years. Above her, the giant beast was nearing, and letting out a roar that rivaled something out of Jurassic Park. She was but five feet away when she saw Shadowmane rear up in terror, and the king come tumbling down.

All the king's horses and all the king's men... ran through her head like an ill-fated omen. She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart sinking fast. She was too late.

Yet Shadowmane did not fall, but simply reared up again, and took off past where Aróf had gone. The poisoned dart had not reached her!

And then, Paige saw a man in a crumpled heap in front of the king.

A man she knew at once.

"Grima?" Paige said, her voice small and meek among the thunderous cries and clangs about her.

Filled with a sudden fear, she ran up to him and knelt down. "Grima! Oh my God! Are you hurt?"

"Paige..." he choked, but was cut off, for they suddenly heard laughter as like none other before.

She glanced behind her and saw the king, still laying as though dazed or struck dumb with absolute fear. Their eyes met for a single moment, and then she followed his gaze and saw once and for all the Witch-king of Angmar.

He was clothed in black and wore a silver crown, which itself appeared dangerous and sharp as a razor.

He dismounted his winged devil, and rose up to his full height. Paige did not think the top of her head would reach his navel, if he had one. She didn't like to ask.

In his hand, he carried the scariest looking medieval torture device she had ever seen. It was a mace, an iron ball on a chain loaded with spikes. "Ooh, that reminds me!" she said, and pulled out her own mace, though it wasn't nearly as fearsome.

Her words did cause him some wonderment, however, for he stopped in his tracks to better observe the insect which stood before his quarry.

"Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye."

Several moments passed, and a fair wind blew.

"Kay, EW! Ol' Blinky doesn't scare me, but talking to me about eating my skin? That's just...nasty."

Paige couldn't tell for sure, but she thought the evil dead dude was somewhat unsure of her. Perhaps it was on account of him barely understanding a word she had said, she surmised in the end.

Regardless, he replied, "Thou hast no fear? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!"

"Yeah, I always wanted to ask you about that. Was that just something you made up to scare every living man into thinking that you couldn't be beat, or were you just lucky a bunch of times, and now think yourself invincible?"

The Nazgûl made no reply. He merely tilted his head, as though trying to make sense of all she had said.

"Paige?" King Théoden said behind her, and she turned and smiled.

"Hi! Don't worry! I've got this covered. I'm a woman!" And then it dawned on her what she was supposed to say.

"Right!" she said, continuing now to the somewhat stupefied Ringwraith. "I'm a woman! I CAN kill you! Ha! How you like THEM apples?!"

Suddenly, the giant evil beastie rose back up into the air and swooped down toward Paige with its giant-ass claws. She let out a girlish scream, make no mistake, raised her hand, and sprayed the mace in its face. It screamed out in agony, and slammed into the ground, writhing and wailing, coming ever closer to Paige. It could not see, it seemed, yet its snapping jaws were moving right toward her.

When suddenly, no more screaming could be heard, for with one fine stroke, its head was cut clean off. The beast's wings trembled for a moment, and then lay still. Beside the corpse stood its victor: mighty King Théoden.

But the Wraith's wrath was great. He let out a piercing shriek, his ghostly eyes narrowing upon the weak and human king. He swung his mace wide.

"No!" Paige cried, sprinting forward.

And with a sickening clang, it collided with her helmet and skull. For Paige, all cares suddenly ceased to be.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger, since we don't find out what happened to the Witch-king... Hopefully I'll have more upmid-week. Please review!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: OK, first off, let me say I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the earth like I did. I got very sick, and then recovered only to fall into a bout of complete uncreativeness. I have to admit, I'm still kind of trapped there. My plan is to reread what I've written so far, and upload the chapters I've finished. The good news is, I know where the story is headed, so it's not like I'm blocked that way. I'm just feeling...very uncreative. Hope it passes soon. In the meantime, here's the first installment of what I had written before I fell into this...nothingness.**

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**Postcards Chapter 24**

For Paige, her world was now naught but a torrent of nightmares. She was fighting the Nazgûl's monster, only to have her mace turn into a water gun. She shrieked in panic, as a giant piece of steel collided with her head.

It hurt like fucking hell.

"Paige..."

The voice seemed far off and unfamiliar. It bothered her to hear it. She wanted to tell the person to bugger off and go away. She needed to escape from these wretched dreams, and to wake up in her bed at home, in Chicago.

"Paige, awaken! For your enemy is no more!"

"Whatthefuck?" Paige whispered, and to those that knew her, let out a collective sigh of relief. Ioreth, the chief healing woman, however, enquired: "What did she say?" But none heeded her.

Struggling, Paige opened her eyes. At first, all was a blurry blinding light. Slowly, faces appeared. Firstly, that of Aragorn, who seemed much relieved. Then, King Théoden, who smiled down upon her with much benevolence. And lastly, the face of Éomer, who had tears in his eyes, but did not appear at all abashed to show them.

"Where am I?" Paige asked, and moved to get up, but was hit with a sudden wave of nausea, so instead stayed put.

Aragorn smiled. "At the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. I must say, I am surprised to find you here."

"Ah," Paige replied, smiling. "Ta da!"

Everyone blinked confusion.

"You know..." Paige continued. "Surprise!"

"Ah," Aragorn replied, though not truly understanding the sentiment. "Well, now you must rest, for I have healed what I may at this time. For now, nature must do its own healing. Lie still," he said, placing his hand on her brow. "Your soldiering days are done. For you completed what you set out to do, did you not? The secret which you were to know and I were to discover?"

"Yes," Paige replied, grateful that the worst was now over. "I did what I set out to do. More or less, anyway."

"Then, I shall leave you. I must attend to our little friend, Merry."

"Merry!" Paige cried. "Yes, go to him! Now!"

Aragorn smiled, and moved elsewhere in the room, and with him all followed but for Éomer, who alone remained and knelt by her bed. Taking her hand, he said, "I was a fool."

"Huh? You a fool? How?"

But Éomer merely chuckled. "To believe that leaving you in Helm's Deep would keep you out of trouble. I'd have been better to keep you by my side."

"Yes. I think I would've liked that better. But I still had a nice time with Merry. We got kind of chummy, he and I."

"Indeed? Should I be jealous?"

Paige snickered. "No. Not of Merry."

But slowly, the smile faded from his lips. "I thought you had died. Not in a long time have I felt so low. Part of me, a great part in fact, wished to die along side you."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't." She smiled. "On account of me not really being dead."

And he, too smiled. "Yes. That was a near miss." But again his face grew serious, for he remembered a charge that was made upon him. "It grieves me, but I have ill news for you. Perhaps it is the wrong time. It will keep."

"No! What is it? Tell me."

He paused a moment. It surprised him how much he wished he need not say the words. "Grima is dead."

And then Paige remembered. Shadowmane bolting. A crumpled heap of a man. 'Paige...' he had called, unable to say more.

A tear streaked down her cheek. "The poisoned dart."

"Aye. In the throat. He did not suffer long. I did manage to speak to him, however, before he died."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Tell Paige: I got there first.'"

"What?"

"That it is, I fear. He died trying to save the king, for Théoden saw it, himself. Grima leapt in front of the poisoned arrow. Almost as though he knew it were to happen."

And with that, Paige's breath was taken quite away. Of course. Grima had been there. He knew she had come along. Ever was he in the shadows, eavesdropping, for it was ever his home. He had heard all she and Merry spoke of in their nights by the campfire, and she had been none the wiser.

Éomer spoke again. "I suppose you deem me wrong to think so ill of him?"

"You still do?"

He thought a moment. "I suppose he did redeem himself, in the end. Though it cost him his life. But, nay. I think no more ill of him."

"Good," Paige said, wiping away another tear. "Because he looked up to you in ways you can't imagine. You see, you were everything he wished he was."

That appeared to give Éomer some food for thought, and they said no more. Paige at last fell asleep, still holding his hand.

In the morning, a new day truly dawned, and all the sky was bright and calm as in the days of old. Paige's head and body ached upon gaining consciousness, but quickly gladened when her eyes opened. There, Éomer remained, his own head now alseep by her hand. He slumbered softly, and only stirred when she stroked his brow.

"You stayed," she said, unable to suppress her delight and surprise.

"Aragorn said you were out of danger, but I wished to be sure. Regardless, where else would I be?"

Paige shrugged her shoulder. "In a bed. Getting a good night's sleep."

"I slept better being by your side," he replied, and she felt her heart begin to flutter.

He sat up and stretched. "A new day. All gloom is banished, I see. And with it comes hope. But the war is not yet over."

"You'll all have a heart-to-heart today, I'm sure, and decide what next to do."

Éomer's shrewd eyes narrowed. "And what is next? For I feel as though, like many things, you already know."

Shaking her head, Paige replied: "I don't want to jinx myself. Or you. My lips are sealed."

"Sealed lips have far better uses," he replied and leaning in, kissed her softly upon her mouth.

If not for a brain-splitting headache and an ear that forever felt like it was clad in ice, it might've been the sweetest moment ever, Paige thought.

And when he left in search of both Aragorn and a new plan of attack, Paige quietly wondered to herself if life could get any better.

Silly Paige. Of course life could always get better. Such a shame that likewise, it could always get worse.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? I'm sure this is a lot less climactic since it's been like months since most of you have read the last chapter. Oh well. But I guess you already knew I wasn't about to kill off my heroin. Yet... Tee hee. Please review.**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: It seems I have now been writing this story for over a year. Well, that's just insane. So much for a quick silly story. I guess having a baby does that - life just runs away from you. Quite literally now, and I have to hurry and catch him, bless him.**

**I must apologize for my long hiatus. The last couple of months are always a challenge, but I actually also lost one of my students in an ATV accident right before the end of school, and that's been rough going. He had just turned 9 years old. I can still hear his voice, and see his impish grin. I found a photo of him on my phone the other day, and I don't think I'll ever be able to delete it. He had a special knack for getting into trouble, and I was forever telling him off, but he never held it against me. I still can't believe he's gone. Rest in peace, Tyler. **

**So, without further ado, here is a new chapter. Hope to have the next one ready for sometime on the weekend.**

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**Chapter 25**

The following two days saw many things. Paige began to rapidly improve, despite still being bedridden. Her left ear always felt cold to the touch, and she quietly wondered if that was just the new norm. On the plus side, she mastered the chamberpot, and was now able to sit up in bed without nearly passing out or violently throwing up.

She had yet to see Merry, but heard he was recovering in a nearby bedchamber. However, she was blessed with visits from Legolas and Gimli, (Gimli who smugly said, "Did I not say to thee that soldiering for a maid was a foolhardy endeavor?!") But, a more pleasant call was to be had by Pippin (who brought with him food). Éomer was a frequent guest, who often spent the night on the floor by her bed, and it was he that she was expecting when a knock sounded on her door.

"Come in!" Paige called, as she tidied her hair and blankets.

But in strode someone whom Paige did not foresee.

"King Théoden!" she said bashfully, for she hadn't seen him since the evening of the great battle.

"I do not disturb your recovery?"

"No, sir. There's not much to do besides lay here and hope that I don't have too much brain-damage."

"Very well," he said, and sat in a large oak chair by her bed. He gazed about him, as though this was the first opportunity to take notice of her room. "This is a fair bedchamber."

"Yeah," Paige agreed, likewise looking around. The walls were made of white stone, and small leaded windows were inset, letting in some natural light. Upon the main wall was hung a large tapestry of a white tree in full bloom. "I still prefer my bedroom in Edoras, however," she said with a shrug of her shoulder. "Feels more like home."

But with a telling look on Théoden's face, Paige at once corrected herself and blushed. "I mean, Éowyn's room. Not mine."

A few moments passed until Théoden asked, "Shall I ever see my sister-daughter Éowyn again?"

All the moisture seemed to have vanished from her mouth. "I don't rightly know."

"And yet, you know more than you say," he replied, not missing a beat.

Paige sighed. How to say it so he might understand? "The truth is, Sire, she can come back whenever she wants to. She just...doesn't want to."

"She loves me so little..."

"Oh! It's not that! Really, it isn't! Éowyn is tough cookie, let's be honest. You might see the tame and dutiful daughter who seemed happy to do nothing but brush her freakishly long hair all day, but that's not her. She's got some fight in her; she only needed a cause. Settle down and make babies? I'm not sure that's what she really wants..."

"What more is there?"

It took all of Paige's strength not to spit out some saucy retort. "You and Gimli would seriously be BFF's..."

"I know not what you mean. But Paige, for a woman in our realm, there are certain expectations. Not merely for myself, but from our people. Women lead, yes, but they also have duties. As sisters, as daughters, and wives."

Paige couldn't help but feel that Théoden was slowly trying to tell her something. Something she maybe didn't want to hear... _Uh huh..._

The king sighed. "You are not of our realm, Paige. Not of our culture. I daresay, not of our world. You have within you a fiery spirit, like that of a wild mare, unwilling to ever be tamed."

Théoden waited, and Paige had the strong inkling he wanted her to say something. "Yeah, I guess I'm a bit of a spitfire..."

"And for such a wild horse, might it be a brutal shame to tie it down?"

Paige swallowed, but nothing went down. God, she wanted a drink! "Being tied down's not so bad..."

But the king did not seem pleased. He took in a deep breath, and pondered his next words carefully before speaking them. "I am grateful; I am grieved. For upon your coming, Grima was found traitorous, and then he was redeemed. Likewise were you. You would have given your life to save mine. It woes me to speak of this. But know that I do not do so for my own behalf, but rather for another whom I have much love."

Paige's heart was sinking like the Titanic. Down, down, down it went...

The king continued. "Éomer is a fine man, and a good soldier. One day, he will make a very great king, I have no doubt. However, a great king requires..."

"Don't say it!" she suddenly called out, her heart pounding. She couldn't hear it. Couldn't stand it. It would simply shatter her heart into a billion tiny pieces to have the king say what she secretly felt deep down inside. That Éomer didn't love her enough to marry her. Not that she needed a proposal right away... God! She'd only known him a few weeks!

And yet, if Éomer didn't consider her marriage material, what was the flippin' point to all the kissing and flirting and wooing?

"I have offended you," Théoden replied, most grieved. "I am sorry for it. I..."

"No worries!" Paige said sprightly, as she smiled through her traitorous tears. She quickly wiped them away. "I get it. Nothing more to be said. Seriously."

The king rose, somewhat abashed. "Then, I shall leave you."

He had merely opened to door to reveal Éomer upon the other side.

"Éomer, my son," the king replied, surprised. "I have been visiting Paige to see how she improves. Shall I see you at supper?"

"Aye, I shall come anon," Éomer replied.

After again wishing Paige a speedy recovery, the king left, and Paige and Éomer were at once alone.

"So, how do you fare this eventide?" he asked, sitting down where King Théoden had just vacated, and took her hand.

Paige couldn't look him in the eye, so she just stared at his hand holding hers, wondering at it. "Good," she said, lying through her teeth.

But Éomer was no fool, and his brow narrowed sharply. "What did Théoden say to you to have clouded your mood so?"

"Nothing," Paige replied giving a week smile, but still her eyes could not look at him.

Until he commanded her to do so. "Paige, look at me."

And when she did, she observed that his face was serious. "Of what did the king speak?"

But Paige merely shook her head, unable to say the words.

Éomer sighed deeply, let go of her limp hand, and leaned back in his chair. "Shall I instead tell you of my conversation with him this eventide?"

Paige looked up, curiously. She nodded her head.

Éomer appeared out of humour. "Our preparations for the last battle are well under way. Now, it is the busy work, seeing to the men, organizing provisions, the horses... I was in the midst of such labours when the king approached me inside the citadel, for he goes there oft to sit and ponder, says he. I asked him how he fared..." It was then that Éomer gave a sarcastic chuckle. "An innocent enough question, do you not think?"

"Dark have my thoughts been as of late," the king replied, absent-mindedly looking out the window.

"Fear not, uncle. Gandalf assures me that glory may yet be achieved. I have hope yet for a happy future." And Éomer smiled, for his thoughts were of a family, and years of bliss ahead of them.

But Théoden harboured no such bliss, for his wife and son were dead, and he knew only heartache where there once was love. "Think you not tempt fate by planning such merry futures during a time of great uncertainty?"

"If we fight for no future, we only strengthen defeat. It is with our hopes and dreams in mind that we must face our enemy. For then we truly know the cost should we fail."

"Hmmm," Théoden replied, pondering his nephew's words. "And what future do you plan? What hopes and dreams drive you to our victory?"

At this, Éomer smiled. "Why, the same as any other man, I expect. A home. A wife. Children. Peace."

"I have known little of those things," Théoden replied, his mouth thick with salt. "But you spoke of a wife. What lady have you in mind as the future queen of Rohan? Say not that it be Paige..."

And at once, Éomer's heart sank, and all good humour melted away from him. "Why do you speak of her thus? Paige is a remarkable woman."

"Think not that I do not know her virtues, for she has many, save a sensible tongue. But Paige, a future queen of Rohan? A wife noble, worthy enough for my only son and heir? Preposterous."

"Is that not for me to decide? Whom I deem worthy enough to be my wife?"

At this, Théoden stepped closely to Éomer and grasped hold of his shoulders. "You are not some farmer fit only to till soil and plough fields! You are a prospective king! It is your DUTY to..."

"Do not lecture me on duty!" Éomer exclaimed, his temper rising fast. "Think I have not done my duty all of these years? When you were in an aged stupor and cared not for your precious kingdom? When time and time again I fought to protect our borders...our countrymen...you."

Théoden let his great hands fall gently to his sides. "I simply would not wish to to have any regrets...later in life."

A silence ensued. Éomer blinked, and looked up to see Paige still sitting on her bed, her eyes never wavering from his face. "And then what happened?"

"I left, for there were no more words to be said."

She smiled bashfully. "I thought he was telling me that you didn't love me. I guess I misunderstood."

"Then, be not confused. I love you, Paige. I wish you to be my wife."

"Oh..." was all Paige could muster. Her head began to throb...

"You need not answer now. But, perhaps you will have an answer for me when we return?"

"Sure," Paige replied, feeling much like an empty glass. After such a roller-coaster of emotions, now she didn't know what to think.

He leaned over, ready to kiss her forehead, but she raised her chin up, and their lips touched. To Paige, it felt like home. Where she was always meant to be.

Éomer rose up. "Now I shall let you rest."

"Will you come back later?"

"Aye," he replied, stroking her hair. "If this is to be our last night together, this is where I'd prefer to be."

He then strode out, leaving Paige alone with her torrent of thoughts. Éomer loved her, but Théoden did not want them to marry. He wanted someone finer. Classier. Noble.

_Well, fuck!_ thought Paige. _That just ain't me._

Never in all the times she had read the books had she EVER considered that there might be some negative repercussions to Théoden being saved. He was always the good king, not like nasty Denethor who loved one son more than the other... Saying to poor Faramir that he'd have rather wished him to be dead instead of Boromir. I mean, how mean is that?!

But everything aside, Paige for the first time was completely clouded in uncertainty. How were they all to be happy? To marry Éomer only to have the king hate her guts? Or worse, perhaps he might forbid it altogether.

She found herself longing for home - her real home, in Chicago. Maybe Éomer might go with her there? But then, how would she ever get him a passport?

Snarling her dissatisfaction, she slumped down in her bed and covered her head with her blankets.

"Fuck..."

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**A/N: So, I'm sure you've all quite forgotten about the story, and are dreadfully confused, and for that, I am truly sorry! I promise from here on out, I'll be dutifully posting right to the very end! Please review!**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: As promised, here is another chapter. I hope you enjoy this one, in which we meet Faramir, who is not quite what Paige expected... Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 26**

It was barely dawn when Paige awoke to movement within her bedchamber. She pulled back the blankets and blinked at the dim candlelight.

Éomer stood with his back to her, pulling on his heavy armour.

"It's time already?" Paige asked, and he immediately turned around. "But it's barely even morning..."

Tightening up his belt he said, "We have far to travel today, and wish to arrive rested at The Black Gate. We shall need all our strength."

Paige attempted to straighten her bed-head, but without a mirror, it still appeared quite disheveled. However, the sight of it managed to bring a smile on Éomer's lips.

"I love seeing you thus in the mornings. It is my favourite time of day."

She smiled. "Help me up. I'll come and see you off."

"Nay!" he replied holding out his hand and sitting upon the bed. "Let us say our farewells here. You must rest. For my sake, if not your own."

Paige sighed. "OK."

He reached out, stroking the top of her head, and moved his hand slowly down to her neck. "Farewell, Paige. Until next we meet."

"Bye, Éomer," she replied, placing her hand on his.

Sometimes kisses are filled with emotion, such as loss or longing. Sometimes it is filled with want and lust. But for Éomer and Paige, the kiss that followed was filled with hope. Hope that they would once again see each other, and be able to fight another day _for_ each other.

Without another word, Éomer left Paige and her room, and quietly shut the door. She could do little but lay there and cry. Why did Théoden have to be such a stick-in-the-mud? What if changing history like she had would cause them to lose the war? And worst, (for Paige at least), what if Éomer would not return?

A servant brought her breakfast, but it sat untouched and cold for hours. It was not until the lunch tray was brought in that Paige stirred at all from her internal stupor.

"M'lady, may I offer a piece of advice?" the serving girl said, boldly.

"Sure," Paige replied, though not really interested.

"Ioreth has said that you may now rise from your bed. Perhaps it is time for you to see the sun."

"I can see it from my window...sort of..."

"Nay, not properly, m'lady. Up with you now," and the girl threw back the covers, and pulled on Paige's arm until she was standing on the cold stone floor.

"Alright! I'm up! I'm up! Sheesh... What kind of servant are you?"

"I am no servant, but a healer. And you have been long in bed, and now require activity. I shall help you dress, and then you are to spend one hour in the fresh air, no more. Understood?"

"Alright... You don't have to be such a Nazi about it though..."

Paige did not have any dresses with her, so the healer went and found a couple that would fit. They were not nearly as fine as Éowyn's, for they were not made for a niece of a king, but they were clean and not so long that Paige tripped on it every time she took a step. The one she chose in the end was a golden homespun linen with a pretty embroidered trim of white flowers around the collar and cuffs.

The healer, who at last identified herself as Haleth, helped Paige to a garden patio bench, where plants and vines grew out of large pots, for they were so high above the earth. A stone balcony provided an excellent view of the surrounding plains, as well as Mordor.

"Now, one hour mind," Haleth said sternly. "And then I shall be back to fetch thee."

"Alright. Thank you, Haleth," Paige replied, already feeling grateful to the woman because she immediately felt better in the fresh air and sunshine. It was a day of springtime, when almost all her cares were blown away. Almost...

"How is it..." a voice said, causing Paige to turn around suddenly, only to see a man she had never before met. He was tall with brown hair, and had piercing green eyes. He was handsome, there were no buts about it. "...I have lived my whole life in Minas Tirith," he continued uninterrupted, "and never before set eyes on your face?"

"I guess it's because I haven't lived here my whole life, unlike you," Paige replied.

The man smiled, and straightened himself. "I am called Faramir," he said, placing his hand on his chest.

Paige could not help but smile. So, this was Faramir... Yes, he would have suited Éowyn very well. "Paige."

But Faramir still appeared confused. "But, Lady Paige, how is it you came here in times of great hardship? The roads are dangerous, and by no means easy..."

"I came with King Théoden and his men."

Faramir balked. "I have never before heard of a king taking ladies with him to war!"

"Yeah, well, in his defence, he didn't exactly know I was coming along. I dressed as a soldier."

"Ah, you are the lady of whom I have heard! You must be very skilled and brave."

"Uh...yes, yes I am," Paige replied, smiling at her own ridiculousness.

He sat next to her, in awe.

"Say," Paige continued, on a more serious note, "I'm sorry about your dad. I always thought he was a bit of a horse's ass, because of how he treated you, but still! It can't be easy for you."

Faramir blinked. "What of my father? Has something happened to him while I was ill? Pray, tell me quickly!"

"Uh..." _Oh fuck_, Paige thought. _Me and my big fucking mouth... _"Seriously? No one told you anything?"

Faramir merely shook his head, appearing quite stricken.

"Okay... Well..." Paige took a deep breath. "You see, he'd heard that you were dead, so in a fit of...despair...or perhaps lunacy, he tried to set you on fire, and kinda sorta lit himself on fire in the process. Gandalf came and rescued you, oh, and Pippin, too. You owe them a big 'thanks!'."

"But, what of my father?"

"Right... Well...when he learned that you weren't dead, he was so happy he...started...jumping up and down, and...he jumped so far on his last jump, that he kinda sorta...jumped off the cliff?"

Faramir blinked, as though struggling with contemplation. "Lady Paige, do I hear rightly? Are you telling me my father is dead?"

"I'm sorry," she said, nodding.

And then, the floodgates broke, for Faramir let out a great scream, and immediately clung onto her in a torrent of tears. Quite shocked, there was little Paige could do but gently pat his shoulder in a consolatory manner. But on and on the tears did flow, for to Paige what felt like an eternity.

At last he rose up, his face red and swollen. "Are you okay?" she asked tentatively.

He nodded, but a few tears still managed to escape.

"But, Faramir...he didn't even like you. He was mean to you. A bully."

"I know," Faramir agreed. "Oh, why did my father not love me?" He then grasped hold of her again, and cried for an additional ten minutes.

When the well had at last run dry, he blew his nose on his handkerchief and said, "You see, I thought the fire was a dream. The healer spoke of a poisoned dart, so I had assumed that to be the cause of all my strange dreams."

"Why? What else did you dream?"

"Oh, merely that Aragorn came to my bedside and held my hand," he said dreamily, letting out a sigh.

Paige could not help but scrunch up her face and ogle at the man who would have been Éowyn's husband.

When suddenly Haleth appeared. "M'lady, I said an hour, no more, and an hour it has been. It is time for you to rest."

"Right..." Paige replied, looking apologetically at Faramir. "Sorry. Time to go."

"Must you?" Faramir said with longing as Paige rose up.

But Haleth, a Godsend, was adamant. "Ioreth's orders. You would not seek to interfere with them, would you Master Faramir?"

"Nay, I would not," he replied, and rose up also. "Until tomorrow, Lady Paige," he said, kissing her hand.

"Goody," Paige replied.

Paige had just sat back down upon her bed, when a knock sounded. At first, she was worried that it was Faramir, come to cry on her some more, but then the voice announced himself as Merry.

She happily gave entry, and at once was on her knees to hug her little friend. "Oh, Merry! I'm so happy to see you!"

"And I, you! I must admit, when I saw the Wraith strike your head, I feared the worst. How lucky that you escaped serious injury."

"Lucky that we know a king with magical healing powers, more like..."

At that, Merry laughed too, and at once felt comforted again. "I was feeling much like an old sack, empty and unwanted, for all our friends have gone into battle, leaving us again. How it cheers me to find you here, quite well."

"I feel the same way. It's true, I have no burning wish to see Mordor, but I would just as soon see my end with Éomer than later on without him. Know what I mean?"

"I do indeed," he said, and pulled out his pipe. With the Longbottom Leaf came all the smells of home and of a simpler, happier time, for Paige remembered them, too.

"I met Faramir today. Boromir's brother?" Paige said, curling up on the bed.

"And?"

"Not quite what I was expecting..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. For one, he's got a serious daddy complex. For another...I think he's kinda gay."

Merry's brow furrowed. "I know not what you mean. Is he happy that his father is dead?"

"Not exactly... More like...he likes Aragorn way more than what's good for him...if ya know what I mean."

Several moments passed when suddenly Merry's brows shot up. "Oh! You mean, he 'ploughs with the other end of his hoe'?"

Paige was impressed. "Is that what you call it? I didn't know there were gay Hobbits."

"Oh, aye there are. Interesting... My, my."

But something much more pressing had been on Paige's thoughts since first waking up in the Houses of Healing. "Merry, what actually happened on the Palinor Fields? After I was struck, I don't remember anything."

Merry sat in a chair which was far too big for him by the fire. Regardless of it's size, he made himself comfortable and continued puffing on his pipe.

"I had never been so frightened in all of my life. And yet there you stood, showing such bravery. It was true then, about courage. It can be found where the greatest fear lives. I saw you pull out something, and spray it into the face of that great monster. How it screamed in agony, and with a single swipe, the King sliced its head clean off. The Witch-King, though I could see only the back of him, seemed to tremble with rage. Perhaps because he would now be forced to walk home."

Merry paused for a moment and smiled, only for it to swiftly fade away with remembering.

"He swung wide, and you darted in front of the king. In a flash, your helmet shattered, and down you went.

'Paige!' I cried out in panic, as all around me was death and fighting on the fields of Palinor. Ahead the Wraith stood, more like a mountain than a man, and equally as fearsome.

Casting such fears aside as best I could, I charged and lunged deep with my blade as high as I could into the back of the Wraith's knee. It screamed out, and swung wide with its mace, but made no impact on me. I do not think it was expecting to see a Hobbit in such a place or time.

The Nazgûl sank down on wounded knee, and cast his mace aside. He drew out his long sword, but either did not, nor could not rise himself off the earth.

Théoden then took aim, and stabbed as best he could at the Wraith's chest, but it was though the Nazgûl wore a hidden vest like old Bilbo's, for the blade did not penetrate, and the Wraith laughed cruelly." Merry shook his head as the memories were thick upon him. "It makes my blood run cold to think of that laugh. But he must not have thought a small Hobbit much of a threat, fool him, for it was then that I swung with all my might with my little sword, and in did it slide like butter.

No scream escaped, no sound at all, but he made a swift movement that I did not see until the last moment, and by then it was too late. Another blade, smaller and more sinister-looking hidden in his other hand, sliced my arm, and instantly, I felt as though I were dropped into freezing cold water.

When I looked again, the Wraith was dissolving into thin air, as though it were merely a shadow of what it once was. And then, it was gone.

But suddenly, I heard a most dreadful scream. It was an agonizing cry, one filled with the most heart-felt sorrow. I turned to see Éomer on his knees beside you, cradling your smashed head in his arms."

"Really?" Paige asked, her voice small.

"Aye. He was sobbing so, I thought you must surely be dead, and my own heart grieved; I thought I should die, too. It was then that a hand reached out, grabbing Éomer's arm. I could not see his face, but I knew it at once. It was Grima. His voice was much altered, but he said, 'Tell Paige: I got there first.' Éomer professed that he did not understand, but Grima only replied, 'I love her.' And then, he said no more.

Éomer continued to weep, and cradle you against his breast, all the while Théoden urging him back to battle and victory. I believe when Éomer did leave you to go and fight, he did so hoping to be killed, so he might join you, for as he ran, he was screaming for his death."

Paige wiped away a tear. And then another. And another. She wept for the loss of her friend. She wept that Éomer had suffered. But most of all, she wept that the entire thing had happened, and because of it, had changed her forever.

"I fear I must go back to my bed," Merry said, climbing off the chair. "My heart is heavy, recounting such events."

"I'm sorry, Merry. I'm sorry I asked."

"Nay, Paige. For it would have to be said sooner or later. But now you know how the Wraith died, and about poor Grima, and how much Éomer truly loves you."

"Can we talk some more tomorrow?" Paige asked, her voice much like a child.

"Aye. Tomorrow. For who knows what the morning may bring."

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Was Faramir a shock? Look for a new chapter on Monday or Tuesday at the latest. Please review!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Okay...I see that Faramir has certainly surprised people, and he was certainly not what you were expecting. For me, that's a good thing! Predictability is a story is death, not to mention boring. I was originally going to go the love triangle route, but I felt it was SOOOO MarySueish, as she would then have - COUNT 'EM - THREE people who'd have fallen in love with her. I am going a slightly different route, but BEAR WITH ME. I don't think by the end you'll be displeased. If you are, on my head so be it, and you can fully tell me in a review. I give you complete permission to say, "Lizbit, I told you so."**

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**Chapter 27**

The following morning, as Paige and Merry sat in sunshine in their little secluded patio, a heated discussion was well under way.

"You exaggerate," Merry professed while he pipe smoked lazily.

"I do not!"

"He would never have said such."

"Well, he did! And now I don't know what the heck I'm going to do. I either piss off the king and live in his kingdom - awkward! - or Éomer and I live unhappily ever after. Unless he marries Miss Stick-Insect after all. That might make him happy," she spat, sulkily.

When a voice suddenly called from the doorway, "What is it we speak of?"

Merry and Paige both turned to see Faramir, not a tear to be seen.

Paige made the introductions, and Faramir was quick to say, "Why, another Hobbit! For I met your friend Pippin within these walls, and quite enjoyed his company."

"Yes, sweet Pippin," Merry replied, sadly. "But now he has gone to war with the others, and we who are left behind can do nothing but wait."

"And wonder how they're doing..." Paige said wistfully. "I wonder if they've reached The Black Gate yet."

Faramir appeared quite serious. "Nay, for it is near a week's journey."

"A WEEK?!" Paige exclaimed. She had no idea Éomer would be gone that long...

Faramir smiled, but there was a melancholy to it. "I believe we should know if something goes amiss, and the battle is lost. For Sauron is always quick to brag about his victories."

Paige stared at Faramir intently, and she could see the bitterness of a lifetime of living in Mordor's shadow, and of being constantly assailed by dark forces. She placed her hand on his arm in a consolatory manner, and he turned to her, his eyes now tear-stricken and said, "I DO hope Aragorn returns unscathed!"

She smiled and nodded, but only when he bent down to wipe his eyes did she turn to Merry and mouthe: "See what I mean?!"

Attempting to stifle a laugh, Merry began to cough profusely, which he quickly blamed on his pipeweed smoke.

"But," Faramir continued, now seated beside Paige, "of what were you speaking when I first came in?"

"Oh," Merry replied casually, "merely that Paige is in love with Éomer, but the king dislikes the match."

"No!" Faramir exclaimed.

"Yeah," Paige confirmed, though feeling a trifle uncomfortable talking about it with him. "He doesn't approve of me."

"Which is beyond comprehension," Merry interjected. "Considering he owes you his life!"

"But, he doesn't know that!" Paige said. "Remember, he never knew his life was in jeopardy. And even if he had, I doubt he would see that I had any part to play in the fact that he's not laid out on a cold slab of marble in the citadel right now. By his rationale, Grima saved his life. And he did. He owes Grima his gratitude, not me."

"Who is this Grima," Farmair inquired, much confused, "and how did you know the king's life was in danger? For surely it must be if he goes to war?"

"Long story," Paige replied. "Suffice it to say that I did what I set out to do, and defeated the big bad, though Merry here did most of the work - good on you, by the way! The king was saved, and now I'm screwed. How did that happen?"

"Why does he not approve of you?" Faramir asked.

"Search me!" Paige said, and then took a moment to think about it. "But it might have something to do with the fact that I'm not noble, don't have any dowry or family to speak of (here in any case), frequently say things that most people don't understand, and am a bit of a shit-disturber."

"Hmmm," Faramir said, pondering all the Paige had described. "Those are heavy disadvantages. The decision is a simple one, however. We must simply show the king that the happiness of his nephew far outweighs any such reservations he might have."

"That," Merry agreed, "as well as show King Théoden that Paige really isn't so bad after all."

It was true that they could make light of such plans while all the while a dark shadow hovered literally overhead. Paige was by no means certain what the outcome of the war would be. Might Théoden's appearance at the Black Gate change things? She couldn't be certain... For a time they could escape their worries of their loved one's fates with talk of love and marriage, but always the darkness came creeping back. The worry, that all their plans would end only in tears.

Days passed, and Paige found a true friend in Faramir. He was good for a laugh, and she had a pretty good shoulder to cry on (for him), which seemed to happen at least once in their daily recovering time. It could get a bit tedious, but in the end she figured that poor Faramir, a soldier, who had no sisters and whose mother was dead, simply had no one else. Paige could only be grateful that she had not been present when he found out about poor Boromir's death.

It was on the sixth day, the day when Faramir said their friends were to reach their destination, that they sat together looking out over Mordor. Sometimes Paige swore she saw the dreaded eye.

It didn't look THAT scary, she thought...

"But for our plan to work," Faramir continued on, "I believe we must first..."

"It's not going to work," Paige interrupted, sounding bored.

"Why do you say so?" he asked, slightly crestfallen. He had laboured hard on his plan.

"For one, Théoden's not going to believe I'm a cousin of Aragorn twice removed. And even if Aragorn did agree to it, which I doubt, where the hell am I going to get a sack full of jewels for my dowry?"

At this, Faramir appeared quite bashful. "My mother had many. I daresay she would have been glad for you to have some. They are for a woman; I have no use for them." He then chuckled, and said in almost a whisper, "Nor am I likely to have."

Paige stared at him, her heart genuinely touched. "Why are you helping me? You don't know me from Eve, not beyond this week. Why?"

"I do not have many friends. At least not friends who see me for whom I truly am. And I believe you do. Do you not?"

"Yeah, I think I do." Paige could not help but smile. "Listen! If we can't pull this thing off, why don't you come back with me? Aragorn's here now. Gondor no longer needs a Steward..."

"But I thought you were from Bree. Did not you say?"

"Yeah, not quite. I'm actually from beyond Bree. I'm from a place where it's OK to be as gay as a maypole."

"Gay?"

"Yeah. Oh, I don't know what the Gondorian phrase for it is, but let's be frank. You like Aragorn waaay more than what's good for you..."

Faramir blushed, but smiled. "I see you truly do know me."

"I'm not sure what life is like here for gay people, but where I come from...gay people can marry. Have children. Build a life with someone."

"Truly?"

"Yeah! Even in Alabama, now!"

It was then that the sound of thunder could be heard. Their eyes rose to the blue skies, but not a cloud could be seen. And then, the ground began to shake, and so fiercely did it quake, they could do nothing but hold onto the balcony and hope all of Minas Tirith did not crumble to pieces beneath their feet.

"Look!" Paige shouted, pointing to Mordor, for high in the sky Mount Doom was spewing forth clouds of dust and steam far into the outreaches of the atmosphere. Even from their line of sight, Paige could see the glow of lava as it continued to pour down the side of the mountain.

"What can it mean?" Faramir whispered, as the quaking settled, but still the black plumbs grew ever higher.

"Frodo and Sam are there right now."

"Where?"

"There," Paige said, pointing to the mountain and mountainous cloud above it. "They're at the summit."

"They could not have survived such a blast, surly." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Paige said, with more assuredness that she genuinely felt. "They'll be OK. You're just lucky that you have giant eagles in Middle Earth."

"But what does it mean, Paige?"

"It means the Ring's destroyed. It's over."

At that, Faramir promptly burst into tears.

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**A/N: So, I'm know you have yet to be convinced of my plan, but trust that there is one! Have faith, dear readers. Have faith. **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Crap, where did the time go? You know what they say about best intentions... I totally MEANT to update sooner, but then we decided to hold a yard sale and then my family donated a bunch of stuff, and it all had to be organized, and priced, and cleaned... Thank God it's over with. So, sorry this has taken longer than expected to get updated. I have a few more chapters done, they just need editing. **

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**Chapter 28**

The wait for Éomer and company to reach the Black Gate had been indeed long for poor Paige. However, the days following - waiting for him to return - felt longer still, for seconds felt more like hours, and days like years. Like a child waiting impatiently for Christmas, each day Paige counted how many sleeps until they would all return to Minas Tirith.

She had spent the time in glad company, for she had very pleasant times with Merry and Faramir, but it was Éomer that she longed to see, and of whom she dreamt of at night.

She had begun to branch out of the Houses of Healing, and roam into more of the city. She watched as the people of Minas Tirith went about their daily business, towing wagons of hay, vegetables, or even their children firmly clasped in hand. She gazed at their faces, wondering what their lives have been truly like, living ever in Mordor's shadow, and knowing nothing about the world she had come from.

So, it was with great surprise when a rider approached her upon his horse, and finally clasping eyes upon her, hurridly dismounted. "Lady Paige, at last! I have searched all of Minas Tirith for you this past hour!"

"What is it? What's wrong? Is it Éomer? Is he hurt! Dead?! WELL, SPIT IT OUT!"

"Fear not, Lady Paige. All is well! I have just delivered a letter to the Steward of Gondor, but I also have a charge for you. Lord Éomer asks for your presence at the field of Cormallen, as well as that of the Hobbit, Merriadoc."

"He does? Why?"

At this, the soldier balked. "He did not confide in me his reasons, milady."

"Of course..." Paige said, shaking her head at her own stupidity. Try as she might, she couldn't remember this in the books... "Yeah. He wants me, I'm there. When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible. Can you ride?"

"I think so. I'm not sure if they've found my horse, Aróf. Are we to ride the whole way there?"

"Nay, milady. We ride to Osgiliath, and from there a ship shall take us to Cair Andros. We will then land, and ride to the fields of Cormallen. I shall look for your horse, milady. For now, take my horse, and go and fetch what you may need. I shall meet you at the Houses of Healing within the hour."

"Fair enough," Paige replied, and clambered onto the strange horse. She rode it up the sloped streets high to the Houses of Healing, and once at the top, tied the reins to a brass ring and hurried inside.

"I need this... And this... And that..." Paige said as she rummaged through her meager belongings, half filling a leather sack.

"So, you mean to leave me then?" said a voice at the door. Paige turned and saw Faramir.

"No tears!" she commanded. "I'll be back in a few days...I think."

"But why must you go? Can you not wait and see him when he comes?" he asked, sitting glumly in the chair by the empty hearth.

Paige sighed and strode over to him. "I'll miss you, too. But, it'll just be for a few days; I promise."

"But then you shall leave again when you marry him."

"That's not decided yet," Paige said sagely. The last thing she needed was to jinx herself.

"I wish you could stay forever. I do not have any friends with whom I feel I can be myself."

Paige could not help but be deeply touched. "To quote Anne Shirley, 'True friends are always together in spirit.'"

But Faramir's brow furrowed. "Whom is 'Anne Shirley'?"

Paige smiled. "Just a friend from another book."

When suddenly, Merry appeared at the doorway, his own little backpack flung over his shoulder. "Are you quite ready, Paige? Indeed, it is time!"

"Yes, yes! I'm ready!" Paige called, stuffing the last of her things in the bag and buckling it up.

Faramir followed them out much like a puppy being left behind, and watched with a saddened heart when they waved good bye and were at last on their way, Paige upon Aróf and Merry upon his little pony.

It was then that Faramir made a decision that would change Paige's life forever. And one that she wouldn't exactly thank him for...

Osgiliath loomed before them like a medieval ruin with it's crumbling walls and fortresses. Upon closer examination, one could easily discern all the damage Sauron's minions had truely caused.

Graffiti, written in what Paige could only assume was the Dark Speech, was written everywhere in blood. Beautiful statues stood defaced with their noses chisled off, or else tumbled and smashed to bits. Everywhere, the place stank of death, rot and acrid smoke.

Onwards and never detouring they went, until at last reaching the harbour where a ship sat waiting.

A man strode off the gangplank, welcoming them. "M'lady, Master Hobbit, well met. I am pleased you have come in good time, for the wind favours us. We must set sail at once, for it is still forty miles to Cair Andros, and we sail against the current."

"Then, let's set sail," Paige proclaimed, climbing off Aróf, as did Merry beside her.

"Are we to leave our horses here?" Merry inquired, for he was loath to leave his little pony, for he feared there was plenty more riding yet ahead.

"Nay, we shall take them with us," the captain said, and sailors came forth to expertly walk the hoofed guests aboard. Paige, Merry, and their guide followed quickly behind.

Now, Paige didn't know crap about boats or ships, but she could tell you that this one had two masts, which looked at least a hundred feet high, and had green billowed sails, each displaying a white tree in full bloom, the symbol for Gondor. As far as ships go, she was by no means in pristine condition, for it was clear that she'd seen her share of battles, but she felt sturdy underfoot, and when they lifted the anchor, quickly began to move upriver.

Merry joined Paige at the railing of the ship, and they watched in horror as Osgiliath floated past.

The city still burned, but near the water's edge stood a makeshift gallows, and there hung four men, and a small boy. It made Paige's blood run cold to see it. Workers, old men past their prime, and their grandsons, too young for battle, aided their efforts to clean up their beloved city, and they were hard at work now to take their countrymen down from their gruesome deaths and restore their dignity.

"Paige," Merry said, his voice small and weak, "have you ever seen such wretchedness?"

"With my own eyes? No," Paige answered, staring at the small figure hung by his tiny neck, and then having to turn away and wipe her eyes. It was just too terrible to witness. "And I hope I never will again."

The captain had graciously given his cabin to Paige and Merry to rest in. For Paige, it felt a bit like Pirates of the Caribbean, but she was heartily glad there weren't a bunch of undead pirates manning the ship. She'd had just about enough of undead dudes to last a lifetime.

"Paige, do you know why we are being summoned?"

"No idea," Paige replied while looking outside the window. She preferred the side that looked out over Gondor. Mordor was just depressing.

"But what of the books?" Merry sat at a table, heavily laden with maps, and began to spoke his pipe.

"I can't remember this part. Éowyn was getting it on with Faramir around this point, which is something I can't possibly imagine, now that I'm here and have met them both."

"He certainly seemed grieved at your leaving..."

"He's just lonely. And who could blame him? His dad was a right asshole, and his mother and brother are dead."

"Yes, Pippin told me of some things he had witnessed. He had thought Denethor at first a great leader of men, but toward then end, saw only a man frightened of his own shadow."

"And cruel to his only surviving son. I guess he realized at the end his mistake, but too little, too late!"

"Do you fear it will be the same with Éomer and King Théoden? That he will not change his mind?"

Swallowing hard, Paige couldn't deny what was burdened in her heart. "I am afraid of that, yeah."

"But you have been summoned. Surely, that must mean good news."

But Paige couldn't be sure. It had been Éomer that had called her to come, not Théoden. Try as she might, in her gut she knew the fight wasn't over.

At length, the Captain entered. "We were well favoured, for the current was not strong today, and have made good time. Cair Andros can now be seen."

Merry and Paige followed him above deck and in front of them was an island fortess cast of grey stone. It appeared weakened, and yet on its mast a green Gondor flag blew.

"Is that where we disembark?" Merry asked.

"Nay, for we set down across its shore in Gondor," the captain explained. "From there, the Field of Cormallen is but a short ride."

Paige didn't know why, but she was suddenly incredibly nervous! She was excited to see Éomer, and she didn't think she'd be sent for by him only for him to tell her that he didn't love her anymore - at least, he better not have, if he wanted his balls to remain intact...

But knowing that he was just a short distance away made her insides dance. Would he kiss her? Would he be happy to see her? Would it be just like it was when they said goodbye?

And before she knew it, they were docking in Gondor and thanking the ship captain for his hospitality. But it wasn't until she had set foot on green earth and climbed upon Aróf that she knew her moment had come, and one way or another, the path of her future would at last be determined.

Or so she thought...

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Sorry it's on the shorter side... I'll post another up this week - I promise! Please review!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thank you again, dear readers for all your reviews. Sorry I haven't responded to them individually as I used to do. It seems at this point, I can either respond to reviews, or write. And I'm guessing you'd rather I write. Promise I will respond soon. I am currently writing Chapter 35, and I think there'll be just one or two after that. We'll have to see what the writing-Gods grant. As for the Chapters 30-34, I'm still editing those. But, just so you know, we are nearing the end, my friends...**

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**Chapter 29**

Pounding hooves, a summer wind, warm sunshine, and her beating heart: Paige could perceive little else, for with every moment, she was closer to where she wanted to be most of all.

And then at last the camp could be seen, for thousands of men cheerfully lingered about, singing songs by their campfires, or even fishing in the river.

Ahead, several great pavilions stood grandly, each with long flags at the topmost pole which blew long like slithering snakes in the afternoon breeze.

A horn blew out, and with it came activity, for heads turned, and men rose up from their slumbers to see the newcomers. But ever they rode on, and for Paige, her eyes were forever looking until at last she saw him.

Éomer exited Théoden's pavilion, and smiled broadly at the sight which greeted him.

Fifty feet away. Forty. Thirty. Until at last, Paige could stand it no longer, and halted Aróf. Awkwardly, she clambered down.

And there he was by her side, for he must've run upon seeing her set down, and without a word, without hesitation or thought of decorum or propriety, he pulled her up in his arms, lifting her over a foot above the ground.

It gladdened the men's hearts to see such a sight, but also made their own hearts more lonesome, for they longed to embrace their own sweethearts, in just such a way.

"You came," he whispered, and Paige could feel his breath on her neck. It sent shivers down her spine, if she was being honest...

"Of course," Paige replied softly, her own face buried in his chest. "Where else would I rather be than with you?"

He set her down so gently, she had no fear over losing her balance. Enough time already lost, he leaned down and gently kissed her, his lips feeling warm to the touch as tiny electrical currents spread to her very fingertips and toes.

It was over too quickly, Paige complained inwardly, spoiled from a land where there were no boundaries by such wants or desires. No social rules regarding acceptable duration, or when to move to the next level. I mean, sure! Her nether regions wanted desperately to jump Éomer something fierce, and yet, she knew in THIS time, in THIS place, she would have to wait. And for once in her life, it didn't feel like she was missing out. Somehow, with him, the wait made it all the sweeter.

But, she was pretty damn sure some of that was due to the fact that she wasn't some ignorant virgin Miss, and knew quite well how exactly sex worked.

But he sure as hell didn't need to know that...

"You must be tired after such a long journey," he said at last, he himself having to regain his bearings. The kiss had made him a trifle dizzy.

"A little," Paige confessed, but the last thing she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, she was pretty sure, meant alone time, away from him. No, thank you. "Can we talk? I'm hungry. Can we eat and be alone for a while, or would we get in trouble for that?"

"Nay, it is quite proper. Come. I shall show you your pavilion."

Her pavilion turned out to be his, which he had just vacated that morning. She tried to convince him that that wasn't necessary, that she'd slept by the fire on a mat before and could do it again, but he would not hear of it.

The pavilion was actually a spacious tent. There was a flap for a door, and a large hole in the centre roof, underneath which was a round fire, already burning brightly. The walls had painted scenes and symbols of Rohan's victories, and the floor was covered in soft animal skins. A cot had been set out, and sheepskins laid upon it to keep out the cool springtime chill.

Even by modern standards, it was the fanciest tent Paige had ever seen, and that was saying something.

"Will it suit?" he asked tentatively.

"Are you kidding? All that's missing is a microwave."

Éomer blinked a moment, and then smiled. "I feel as though you are shrouded in mystery. You speak words that are from another language, and not of our land. Paige, where are you from?"

Paige turned to him, blinking nervously. "Bree," she replied, quite unconvincingly.

Smiling sagely, Éomer replied, "I see I must feed you first, before we begin confessions. Very well." And then he stepped out of the tent and called forth a servant to bring food and wine.

Sure, Paige thought. Wine. Get me good and liqueured up thinking I'll spill all my beans! Well, more fool you, 'cause I'm the girl that lasted thirty-six shots that one night in college!

After several minutes, a servant brought in a tray laden with fresh bread, cheese, apples and a silver pitcher of wine. They set it down on the skins by the fire, and sat, nibbling on cheese and bread.

Paige could see the questions forming on Éomer's mind, and so chose instead to be proactive - and change the subject!

"So!" she began, smiling coyly. "Did you miss me?"

Smiling himself, Éomer replied, "Very much. I thought it unlikely I should see you again."

"Frodo and Sam came through. Gollum, too, if it comes to that. They saved us. They're the real heroes. Well, except for Gollum. We're just lucky that he was an obsessive little weirdo, in the end."

"Yet, you still have not told me how you knew...about so many things. The Orcs at Fangorn Forest, Saruman, the Palantir, this the last great battle... How have you known all this?"

"I told you. I'm transparent! No, translucent. I mean, clairvoyant!"

"And what do you know of my future?"

Oh shit, Paige thought. "I dunno," she replied in that same tone that she generally uses when she tells people she hails from Bree. As though she prays they do not know Bree, and can trap her in her lie.

And Éomer saw through it all. "Why will you not say? Is it grievous? Am I to die?"

"God, no! Nothing like that!"

"Then what, pray? Why will you not say?"

"Alright," Paige said, her heart slowing sinking. "At the coronation...Aragorn's coronation...you'll meet your future wife."

Éomer considered a moment, and then smiled. "But I have already met her, and she is fine as a day in Spring."

"You're sweet," Paige said, feeling rather flattered and disheartened at the same time. "But, it's true. She's a princess, the sister of Prince I'm-a-hill, or something."

"Ah. And you have foreseen my marriage to her? This...what was her name?"

"Lothíriel. I haven't foreseen it per say, but I know it's going to happen." At which point, Paige felt very small. She didn't feel like eating anymore. She didn't feel like talking anymore. She was pulling him away from his intended true love. From where he was supposed to be. From his happily ever after. She was royally fucking things up. For him, anyway... And possibly Tolkien, too.

It made her feel a little sick.

Her manner altered so quickly before his eyes, Éomer was quite shocked. She recoiled away from the fire, as though it burned her very soul, and in that instant, he knew he was losing her. At once he grabbed her hands, and sat upon his knees. "I can love no other, for I love you. I do not believe our futures are set in stone. We are masters of our own destiny. But, all this matters not. Pray, answer me this: I love you, Paige. Do you love me?"

This was it. Her moment. This would set him back on his intended path. Could she give him up and break his heart? It wouldn't be broken long, she told herself. He'd have Lothiríel for comfort, and she'd have deep-dish pizza.

Selfish or not, Paige didn't give a flying crap. If she was going to hell, she'd just as soon enjoy the ride, come what may. "Yeah, I love you."

"Then let us forget what paths others would have for us, and set our own path. For after all, who knows better than ourselves what would make us happy?"

He pulled her into him, and held her close; his hand sliding up under her hair and cradling her skull. There, they found peace.

Come what may...

Paige just hoped it didn't turn into a Moulin Rouge the Sequel.

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**A/N: So, what did you think? Sorry it was so short... I'll try to edit the next chapter tonight or tomorrow and update soon. Please review!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Thank you for your patience, everyone! I'm now working on Chapter 36, and it's looking that that will be the last one. I'll write an epilogue, but post that directly with 36, so you won't have to wait to find out what happens afterward. **

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**Chapter 30**

Paige wasn't sure if it was the burning passion that they both felt, or perhaps the raging fire in her tent, but they both felt extremely hot, so at dusk, sought the fresh air for a walk.

They strolled a while, talking of all they had seen since their last meeting. Éomer spoke of the giant eagles and the fall of the Black Gate, and Paige told him of idle days spent with Faramir (though she left out the bit about him being gay - that wasn't her secret to tell).

However, Éomer did not perceive their stories to be of equal value at all. "Of what do you mean he wished you to refuse my summons?" he asked skeptically; his shrewd eyes quite narrowed.

"He was just lonely."

"Oh, aye," he replied, his voice and manner thick with sarcasm. "It must be so very lonesome to be Steward of all of Gondor."

Paige laughed. "Number one: he's only been Steward for a few days, and number two: he's about to lose his job once Aragorn is crowned king."

"I fail to see how such information would make a man lonely."

"His brother is dead. His evil dad just died."

"I see. So, he required a shoulder to cry upon? Yours no doubt?"

"Well, Merry's was there, but a little small and close to the ground."

Éomer appeared incredulous to her wit. "You think this amusing?"

"That you're jealous? Yeah, a little bit. Because he didn't cry on my shoulder a little bit, he cried on it a lot-a-bit. Like, rivers of tears. So much so, I thought I might drown. Trust me, you have nothing to be jealous of where Faramir is concerned."

Pondering her words, he took a moment before enquiring, "Is he handsome?"

"Yeah," she admitted, and he at once appeared displeased again. "For a giant cry baby, yes. He's handsome. But not exactly my type. Does that make you happy? And for the record, I'm not exactly his type either, if ya know what I mean..."

"Nay, I do not. Of what do you mean?"

"Say! Is that the time?!" Paige exclaimed, looking at an imaginary watch on her wrist, but both question and reference were lost on Éomer. However, it did remind him of something.

He grasped her hand, and pulled her back to him. "Nay, do not leave yet. I will enquire no more of Faramir, but you must answer me this."

"What?"

He paused a moment. Paige wasn't sure if he required time to properly format his wording, or if he simply paused for dramatic effect. The question, however, proved poignant.

"Where are you from? And say not Bree, for I know that not to be the truth."

Paige took a deep breath. Telling Merry hadn't been too bad. Maybe she was making a big deal over nothing. "In Meduseld, there is a magic door..."

"Paige, enough of your changes of subject..."

"I'm answering your question! I swear! In Meduseld, there is a magic door."

"Indeed?" he said, wondering to what end this conversation might steep to. "A magic door, you say?"

"Yes. And that's where I'm from."

Éomer paused, waiting for more, but it did not come. "You come...from a magic door?"

"Yes. No! From BEYOND the magic door." Paige sighed. This was a lot harder than she thought it would be. "Another world. My world. Not Middle Earth."

"Oh?" Éomer enquired, his voice thick with skepticism. "And what is this world called?"

"Uh...lots of things. I guess you could call it England." She knew she wasn't really English, but thought it would be far too confusing to get into all the little details.

"I see," he replied irritably, and promptly turned and began to walk away.

"Wha- HEY! Where are you going?"

He sharply turned about, but his face was veiled in shadow. "I asked a simple question from you, Paige. Yet, all I seem to get in return is...nonsensical words meant to distract me away from the truth."

"I'm telling the truth! There IS a magic door! GOD! Gandalf is an Istari from Valinor! You never questioned where HE comes from!"

That bit of information seemed to give Éomer reason to pause. "Valinor?"

"Yeah! Valinor. Where did you think he and Saruman and all the other colourful wizards came from? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Feeling as though he was once again being made the subject of a jest, he pursed his lips together and stepped away once more.

"HEY!" Paige yelled again, this time, running ahead and blocking his way. "Wait a minute. If you want to marry me, yet this is how you plan on being every time we disagree, then we have a problem."

"Then why do you not tell me the truth? Is it too horrible for comprehension? Will Théoden disapprove of your past? Would I?"

"Lis-ten-to-me!" Paige replied, sounding out each syllable clearly so he should understand, and even went so far as to grab ahold of his shirt, pulling him down so his face was level with hers. "It's stupid. It's idiotic. It's incredible, and I don't blame you for not believing me, but it's the TRUTH. Honestly. You think I would lie to you?"

"Like when you said you were from Bree, and my sister went there for...what was it you called it? A little 'vacay'? Whatever THAT may be!"

But Paige wouldn't let go, or let him rise. "I lied then because a magical door would be a hard one to swallow. Don't you think I know that?! Don't you think I knew that then?! I knew it then because it sounds ridiculous, but I'm telling you the truth."

She finally let go of his shirt, and he straightened up.

"Believe me, don't believe me. Whatever. I guess it's better we know where we stand NOW rather than later."

She waited for him to reply, but he just stood there like a giant oaf's ass, until she couldn't stand the silence anymore, and trudged away to her tent. He neither attempted to stop her, nor call out her name. The result was sickening.

Stupid dumbass! Problem was, Paige wasn't sure exactly sure WHO was the bigger dumbass, her or Éomer. Perhaps she should have told him from the beginning.

Except, he kind of hated her then. And called her an evil bitch. No, witch. Gotta get the facts straight...

And then she kinda got banished. Couldn't really tell him then. No, "Uh, would you all just excuse me a moment? I need to get back to my magic portal of a door!"

Oh, yeah. It was locked at that point. Then, she really would've looked crazy.

And later on, there's no way she could've told him; they were too busy running around getting a war on. That wouldn't have been smart at all! "Éomer, I know you're kinda sorta busy getting massive amounts of troops ready, and a Nazgûl nearly just swooped down on us, but I think it's time to tell you that I came out of a magic portal that once was your broom cupboard."

Yeah... THAT wouldn't have gone over well.

And to top it all off, she had really horrible dreams all night long, mostly consisting of Éomer pointing at her in a giant square, calling her a liar and an evil bitch, no...witch, and then they tied her to a stake and were going to set her on fire. She tried to remember the incantation from Harry Potter that would make the flames tickle her instead of burn her to death, but couldn't. She began to scream.

She woke with a start, and after two minutes consideration, knew exactly what she must do.

She saddled Aróf (she was getting kinda good at it), hopped on, and took off.

Please, oh please, oh please, oh please let the ship still be in the dock!

At one point Paige got lost, then decided to head for the Anduin and just follow it all the way to Cair Andros, which worked out in the end. Only...

Not a ship in sight.

Well, fuck.

"Paige," said a deep voice, "what do you do here?"

Turning, Paige saw Aragorn resting beside his horse under the shade of a great tree.

"Me? What are YOU doing here?"

"I came looking for you, for you were spotted heading in this direction. It did not seem plausible to me that you should seek the Black Gate, since it is no more, but instead pursue a way back to Minas Tirith. Am I correct?"

"Yes," she said glumly, and dismounted Aróf. She sat next to him under the shady tree and sighed. "I know it was stupid. Just had to escape a while."

"Why?"

"Because Éomer was being a dumbass, that's why!"

"Paige..."

Sighing, Paige said, "Because he asked me a question, and when I told him the truth, he didn't believe me!"

"What was it? His question. Your answer."

"He asked me where I'm from. And you're smart, and have been places. I think you've guessed that I'm not exactly a local."

"I have."

"I come from somewhere pretty darn far away."

"I agree."

"And the only way to get where I'm from...is by magic."

"What do you have that is magic? A ring? A talisman?"

"A door. In Meduseld. It let his sister, Éowyn out, and me in."

Aragorn leaned back against the roughness of the trunk in deep thought. "Go on."

"Well, that's pretty much it. I didn't tell him the truth earlier because it sounds crazy, and now that he's demanded the truth, he doesn't believe me. Ya see? Hence, dumbass."

"Paige," Aragorn said, shaking his head in dismay, "Éomer is a brother to me, but he can only grasp the enemy that stands before him. He does not perceive the shadows. Unknown darkness drives a terror in him, greater than I think even he perceives. Grima nearly caused the entire downfall of his country from just such a place, from under Éomer's very nose, because he cannot clasp onto what he does not see or feel. Do you understand?"

"So, what are you saying? That magic and the unknown is too much for Éomer to accept? Even from me?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps with time, he will change."

"But, in the meantime, what do I tell him? You want me to LIE to him and say I come from somewhere else?"

"Nay, I would not have you deceive him. But, perhaps he is not ready to know the truth."

"Huh." Paige thought deeply of all that Aragorn had said. "I get what you're saying. It actually kind of reminds me of a Star Trek: Voyager episode where Captain Janeway had to tell Leonardo da Vinci that she couldn't explain to him how phasers worked, because it'd be like trying to explain science to a bird. Or something."

Aragorn had followed little of all she had said, but was pleased that she seemed to be of a more rational frame of mind. "So, do you still desire to flee? Or, do you wish to come back with me? I shall aid you as best I can in whichever you choose."

"I'm not even sure Éomer wants me back."

"Now, that is a fool's thinking, as well you know. Of course Éomer wishes your return. For whom do you think sent me out to find you?"

"He did?"

"Aye, and to bring you back."

"Really?" Paige couldn't help but smile.

"Aye, for he is out seeking you, too. Come back, Paige. I cannot foresee how your story shall end, for you are a mystery to me, but I believe your course lies ahead, not behind."

"OK," Paige replied, after a few minutes. He was right, of course he was right, and she'd acted childishly running away like that. But if anything, it made both her and Éomer keenly aware that despite everything, they'd just as soon be together than apart.

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**A/N: I'll be honest - this chapter was one the one that kind of got away from me. This is the one where the character's personalities made the story take a drastic turn, and something happened that I didn't intend. I actually had to rewrite this one a few times. Not because I didn't like it, but because I struggled with how the character's personalities were shifting the story. However, in the end, I decided to be true to them, and all their flaws. We all make mistakes and decisions that we later regret. Please review.**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your reviews! I'd also like to tell you that I FINISHED THE STORY, so now I'm just editing the rest. It feels AWESOME to finish it, for I remember back in June wondering if I was ever going to get it done. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

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**Chapter 31**

Éomer still had not arrived by the time Paige and Aragorn returned. She was fairly tired after such and exhausting night and day, and promptly fell asleep on her cot not even noticing the lack of a fire.

As such, she was unaware at Éomer's return. However, Aragorn was, for he kept a wary eye open, and was gladdened to see his dear friend return.

"Fear not," Aragorn called out, taking hold of Éomer's reins as he jumped off his horse. "She has safely returned these two hours past."

"Who found her?"

"I did, at Cair Andros."

"You suspected she might have travelled that way."

"Aye. This land is unknown to her. It seemed likely to me that she should retrace her steps."

"Thank you my friend," Éomer replied, looking increasingly weary. "I am much obliged."

He moved to go toward Paige's pavilion, but Aragorn placed his hand on his arm. "Halt, Éomer. I have no wish to interfere, but Paige spoke of what passed between you."

"She should not have burdened you with our troubles."

"Aye, in that we both agree. It should have been you who burdened me."

Éomer was more than slightly taken aback. "Aragorn..."

"Éomer brother, I have no desire to pry into another man's heart. Only you can chose with whom you wish to spend your years. Paige to me is...curious. Unlike any woman I have encountered, though I have lived long and travelled far. If your heart is drawn to her, why disobey it?"

"I am troubled by these secrets she carries. Haunted by these unknowns that I cannot hope to understand."

Aragorn stood a moment, pondering his dear friend's words. "If you fail to understand her, I say: do not try to. There are many unknowns in this world that we cannot hope to fully understand. However, to be in happy in this life, one must have faith."

"Faith?"

"Aye. Faith that good will prevail. Faith that what was lost can be restored. Faith that love shall conquer all." Aragorn smiled and his mood was easy, for at last his many heavy cares were near an end. "Gaze out, Éomer. See where we are? Our enemy after so long is defeated. We have done what we had set out to do, and have been proven victorious. Imagine where instead we may be without having had faith?"

Patting his dear friend on the arm in grateful understanding, Éomer then strode over to Paige's Pavilion and stepped inside.

It was dark but for a little moonlight that shone down the centre hole. He could see Paige sleeping soundly on her cot, and so he sat on the ground at her feet, and waited.

Faith... What was that? He had hopes, he had dreams; he had no faith. Faith required a sense of assuredy that good _would_ prevail, and all turn out as it should in the end. Happiness would overcome heartache. That not another whom he loved would die or leave him.

He had discovered happiness in Paige; a future that before had seemed impossible. And yet, deep in his heart doubt dwelled, for happiness seemed nearly too good to be true. Would she prove to be like all the rest before her? All those whom he had loved and lost? Forsaken by all. Abandoned, either by death or by choice. What if her love should prove to be as variable? Might the mysteries she carried with her become his downfall?

Try as he might, he found no answers to those questions that continued to taunt him, those riddles in the dark.

Paige stirred, and not wanting to frighten her, he whispered, "I am here. You are safe."

"Éomer? You're back? Are you royally pissed at me?"

"I can only assume you ask if I am angry with you. I am not. Merely at myself."

Crawling off the bed, Paige sat next to him, as though in front of an imaginary campfire. Instead, they sat side by side in a continuous twilight, seemingly reluctant to let in the light.

"I'm sorry," she said, fully meaning it. "For running off like I did."

"As am I sorry. Promise me you shall never again leave me thus."

"Thus?" Paige asked.

"Without letting me know. Without giving me the chance to stop you. Without saying farewell."

"Yeah, that was pretty dumb of me, huh? It was pretty stupidly childish. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You still have not promised," Éomer said poignantly.

"I promise," she replied, slipping her hand into his. "Never again. Cross my heart and hope to die."

Éomer blinked. "That is a grim phrase."

"It means I'd rather die than break my word."

"Ah."

Smiling impishly, Paige said, "Can you promise me something in return?"

"Name it."

"From now on, when we fight, we won't let it rest until it's resolved. No going to bed. No sleeping it off. No walking away unhappy with each other. Agreed?"

Éomer smiled. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

When they finally exited the tent, it was quite nighttime, and it was learned that Frodo and Sam had recovered from their ordeal at Mount Doom. So much so, it was decided that they would at last break camp and depart for Minas Tirith in the morrow at first light.

That evening, however, was filled with celebration. Music, fires, and feasting was spread throughout the glade, and every soldier merrily took part.

Of course, it was in King Théoden pavilion that the most exclusive party was to be had. It made Paige giggle to enter it, thinking it much like A Night at the Roxbury. Luckily, she was deemed important enough to gain admittance. Now, she only wished she had a prettier dress, and had access to a bath that didn't involved a sponge and a small bucket of ice-cold water.

"Paige!" Merry exclaimed with a mouth full of carrot. He hurried up to her with Pippin in tow. "I have not seen you since we arrived!"

"Aye!" Pippin agreed. "And I have not seen you at all! We heard about your little jaunt back to the ferry." He had a twinkle in his eye that spoke of knowing of a certain situation, while also choosing to remain silent. "I hope you learnt...not to be hasty."

Merry and Pippin promptly broke out into a fit of laughter, and Paige was glad for being in on the joke.

"Ha ha," Paige said, struggling to smile. She felt stupid enough as it was. "'Don't be hasty.' That's a good one. Yes, I will endeavor to become more Entish."

Blinking with confusion, Pippin asked, "But, however did you..." when suddenly Merry interrupted him. Of course, Merry alone knew Paige's entire secret.

"I told her, Pip! Oh, many long nights did we have by the fire, did we not Paige? Why, she heard all of our tales. Did you not, Paige?"

"Oh, yes!" Paige replied, catching on. "Yes, I know all about...Weathertop, and Tom Bombadil (who always seemed to me like Johnny Appleseed on acid, if you know what I mean), and being abducted, and all about Fangorn Forest."

But Pippin merely stared at her, nonplussed. "Acid?"

"Oooh! Pippin!" Merry exclaimed. "Are those apple tarts?!"

"WHERE?!" Pippin exclaimed, nearly knocking Paige over in his quest for pastry.

Merry sighed, knowing the crisis was averted. "May I please tell him one day? Perhaps when we are back in the Shire? It would be nice not being the only one knowing your secret."

"Sure. When you're back in the Shire. My secret won't matter then. He probably won't believe you, anyway."

"Oh, I think you underestimate Pip." Merry glanced about the room, and saw Éomer speaking to Aragorn in the corner. "And what of Éomer? Does he not know?"

"I tried. He didn't believe me."

"Is that why you left?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay? I wasn't thinking."

"And nor is he, but you must not punish him for it. A time will come, no doubt, when he will not be able to deny what is true. Fear not."

But Paige's fear had been growing these past few days, and it would not be so easily cast aside. "I wish I had your confidence."

A minute or so passed and neither spoke, until Merry suddenly exclaimed, "I still do not see why you would leave camp! Of what did you hope to gain?"

"Oh, GOD, Merry! Look! You expect me to be able to give you a RATIONAL reason why I do something when I'm upset? Well, I can't! Otherwise, I'd be able to tell you why I dyed my hair BLUE when I was sixteen only to end up looking like the Cookie Monster. Or why I slept with my history textbook under my head for that exam that I didn't study for, which...doesn't work, by the way. Or why I mixed Sambuca and Schnapps at that office Christmas party that time and woke up the next morning with MY BOSS. So, fuck! I don't know why I did it! I was stupid! I wasn't thinking! I was...being an idiot! What are you, my MOTHER?!"

Blinking, Merry merely replied, "Cookie monster?"

Rolling her eyes and sighing deeply, Paige replied, "Long story."

"But what would you have done if you HAD reached Minas Tirith?"

"I don't know..."

"Well, I shall tell you one thing," Merry said. "Faramir would have been pleased as punch if you had."

"Indeed?" Éomer said, moving in beside Paige, his eyes appearing as sharp and dangerous as a hawk's. "Of what would have made Faramir so pleased?"

"Why," Merry replied, "if Paige had returned to Minas Tirith, that would have greatly pleased Faramir because - OW!"

"Oh, Merry!" Paige exclaimed. "I am SO sorry! Did I step on your foot? It's amazing, because it's so small, and yet SO big you can just fit it right...in...your...mouth..."

Merry then limped away, muttering under his breath.

Paige looked up at Éomer with some trepidation, and her fears were confirmed when his face appeared grim.

She wasn't sure what to say when he suddenly took her hand and leaned down close. Perhaps he didn't want there to be any mistake or ambiguity in his words. Regardless of his intention he said, "Paige, I must know if I am still foremost in your affections. If your feelings have changed, pray tell me so at once and I will harbour no grievance against you."

"Of course you're still number one. You're the only one. Honestly. I can tell you're a bit jealous of Faramir, but you really have no reason to be. It's not him I want to marry."

And at once his manner eased, for it appeared what worries had been nettling him quite drifted away. He kissed her hand. "Have I been quite tiresome? Is my jealousy so transparent?"

"You have not been tiresome, but yes. You definitely wear your heart on your sleeve. But, that's okay. I love that about you. You've just got to remember that this is Lord of the Rings. Twilight is a whole other book. No Team Éomer or Team Faramir here!"

"I know not what you mean."

"I'm just saying...you have nothing to be jealous of. I swear."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Yup. A long, horrible grueling death."

He once again kissed her hand, and strode away in glad spirits. Paige smiled and felt eased for the first time since she had arrived. Maybe everything would be fine! Maybe it would all work itself out! Maybe...

What? What? What?

You know how you can be in deep thought one moment, and then snapped to attention the next just by hearing your name? Such was a moment for Paige, who had distinctly heard her name, and glanced about the large tent. However, none were looking in her direction. It was then that she heard it again, coming from Théoden's lips who was in a deeply hushed conversation with Aragorn.

Looking as nonchalant as she could, Paige began to sidestep toward the pair whilst looking in the opposite direction.

"...for if that is the reason for your concern..." Aragorn was saying.

To which Théoden interrupted, "Nay, that is not the reason."

"For Paige is one in a hundred."

"Nay, she is one in a thousand," the king replied earnestly. "Think I know not of her bravery in battle? Of how she single-handed took on a foe which brought most hardened warriors to their very knees?"

"Might not such a brave woman be a just future queen? Has she not proven her worth?"

"Aye, I have no argument there, Aragorn, dear friend. But she is not noble! I want someone grand for Éomer; someone titled. A princess, I daresay. Or even a great lady if she be comely and demure and be of noble stock. Now, Prince Imrahil has been telling me of his daughter, who I hear tell is very pretty and amiable."

"Lothíriel? I understood her to be betrothed to poor Boromir for a time."

"Indeed?"

_What the fuck_? Paige thought. Listening to Aragorn and Théoden was worse than a fucking sewing circle or group of teenage girls in a bathroom!

Part of her wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of them gossiping about girls, and the other part just wanted to throw up her entire dinner.

It would seem that no matter what she did, Théoden just didn't think she was good enough for his only nephew and heir. And maybe he was right. After all, she didn't belong there. Not really. She loved Éomer. Truly, she did. And she knew he loved her.

But try she might, if saving the life of the king would not sway his mind, what on Middle Earth would?

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**A/N: I know what you're thinking...that Paige would have been better off letting Théoden die! It may be true (alright, it IS true), but he was the NICE king not like mean, mad, old Denethor. I couldn't help but think this would be something that would happen to me. Do a good deed, and somehow get bitten in the ass. Please review.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! It's so weird to be done this story... My mind now feels quite hollow and empty - LOL. **

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**Chapter 32**

Merry was avoiding her, of that Paige was certain. The entire camp had been packed and loaded, and they were well on their way to Minas Tirith by mid-morning. Paige had tried to approach Merry twice, but once he ignored her (much to the confusion of poor Sam), and the second time Paige thought his scowling face so intimidating, that she quickly backed off. In the end, she decided it'd be best to offer some sort of peace offering. More pointedly, food.

They had travelled long and far, and at last had breaked to rest the horses. Most tentatively, Paige approached Merry, a small bundle of white linen in her hands.

Upon seeing Paige near, Merry's eyes narrowed, and he turned to cheerful Pippin, who appeared oblivious as to his moods. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a single syllable, Paige jumped in.

"Merry, before you get angry or march away - which you have every right to do - let me just tell you that I'm sorry for stepping on your foot yesterday...deliberately. You have been my closest and dearest friend here, and it wasn't right what I did."

Merry appeared unmoved, and Paige was grateful that Pippin, ever the curious Hobbit, inquired, "Never mind all that! What have you got in the bundle?"

"Oh! Right!" Paige replied, at once unwrapping her surprise. "Two apple tarts leftover from last night. I thought...you might like them..."

Eyeing the tarts most scrupulously, at last Merry broke a smile and took the bundle. "Why, of course! What Hobbit in all of Middle Earth could refuse such a peace offering?"

He gladly took a bite out of one, and being a dear friend to Pippin, gave him the other one.

When Paige strode away, her mind and conscience much relieved, she now had but one dilemma to consume her thoughts: how to alter the king's mind and allow her and Éomer to marry?

"He must simply accept my choice," Éomer said to her later, as they had once again taken up their journey. "Of course I should wish his blessing, and I do, but I must live as I would rule, and let none other guide my decisions."

"Them's fightin' words," Paige replied giggling, only for her mood to sober. "But what if he stands his ground, too?"

"Well, then I fear we are at an impasse, for nothing short of a change of heart from you could sway my mind now."

Paige at last smiled and felt the bliss of relief. Whatever may come, whatever Theoden might decree, Éomer would not forsake her. Her mind was made up, so surely there was no more cause to worry, right?

It took another three days until slowly Minas Tirith came into view. At first small and grey, more like a ghost ship rising up through the mist than like a city on a mountainside. Yet with such sights, the mood altered amung the men and a great cheer rose up. They were warriors returning home, and the battle had been won.

Paige smiled upon hearing the celebrations and horn blasts. In her mind's eye, she had a flash of the movie, of Return of the King. How secular it felt. Her old life began to seep back in, as she knew this book to be nearing an end. And that made her wonder...would the story keep going, despite the book being done? Would life still continue, all the way until Legolas and Gimli sailed for Valinor? Or would it just...stop? Cease to be? Her old life seemed the dream now, and this the only reality. She didn't care if Éowyn ever came back. Paige was pretty sure that even tampons and shampoo wouldn't tempt her back through that magic door.

And when at last the gate drew near, and men standing guard no longer appeared like ants, but as real men strong and fair, they at last halted. Éomer sent Paige a fleeting glance and a smile, before joining Théoden and Aragorn, as well as some other dude, who she had heard was Prince I'm-a-hill. They rode forward, and looking for the first time ahead, Paige saw Faramir, tall, humble yet handsome in the springtime breeze.

For Paige, it was all too much like a dream. The people, the crowning of a king, the warm breeze which sent soft petals raining down on them from flowered trees high above the city walls. She could not help but be swept away in the moment, knowing that she, nor anyone else, would ever view it again. It was more than a once-in-a-lifetime happening. So lost in the moment, that she was actually startled when a great cry rang out, declaring once and for all time, Aragorn King of Gondor.

Slowly, Aragorn led his host into the city, and an explosion of merriment could be heard. Music, singing, dancing, screaming: it was a street party of Renaissance proportions if ever there was one, which to Paige, appeared more like a Gay Pride Parade rockin' it Tudor style.

But amidst all such chaos, Paige was at peace. The battle was at last over, the war was won, and Paige at last felt that there wasn't any way she could screw things up.

Such a pity that at that very moment, other people were very hard at work to screw things up for her...

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**A/N: Kay, I know what you're thinking: "Fuck, Lizbit! That chapter was just way too short! I quite agree. That's why I'm posting another chapter. Enjoy! Please review this one before you move on, though!**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Don't worry - this chapter's much longer. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 33**

Upon Paige finally reaching the citadel, the entire street was a mass of merriment and confusion. Paige knew no one in sight, and was beginning to feel much like a spare part. She was about to go off in search of her old room when she heard her name called from behind.

Turning about, she saw Éomer worming his way through the crowd, his eyes clasped tightly on hers. "At last," he said when he finally reached her. "I feared I should not find you in such a crowd as this."

"Tell me about it. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see you again."

Éomer smiled. "Paige, I..." he began, only to be cut short, for Faramir approached suddenly, and stood by Paige in a manner both informal and familiar.

"Paige!" Faramir exclaimed and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I saw you return, but had no opportunity to speak with you. You were gone so long, I had begun to fear you should not return at all!"

Paige smiled at the sight of her friend. "I said I'd be right back, remember?"

Éomer cleared his throat, and at once Paige and Faramir turned. Before she could speak, however, Faramir straightened himself and said smiling, "I do beg your pardon. Introductions have not been made. I am Faramir son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor."

Éomer was apprearing to size the man up, for he did not return the man's smile. "And I am Éomer son of Éomund, Marshal of the Mark..." He paused for a moment before adding, "...and heir to the throne of Rohan."

Faramir stood as still as a statue for a moment, and then suddenly smiled, showing the whites of his teeth. Paige didn't know why, but she sensed an ill-wind blowing in... "Ah yes...Éomer. Now I recall," Faramir continued. "Paige has spoken of you...once or twice." He wrapped a long arm around her shoulder, and Paige could not but help furrow her brow. _What the fuck?_

But Faramir appeared oblivious to both Paige's discomfort and Éomer turning red in the face. He continued on smiling jovially. "And how is it you know our dear Paige?"

Éomer appeared to be holding his breath, for his face was becoming redder and more dangerous by the moment. However, he managed to utter, "She has agreed to become my wife."

"Really?" Faramir replied with mock amazement. "My felicitations to you both, of course!" When all at once his mood turned sour. "However, I should ask...does your uncle, King Théoden, know of such a scheme?"

All his humor vanishing, Éomer spat, "As he is my lord and king, of course he should know!"

"Ah, of course," Faramir replied, smooth as silk. "I only inquire, as I just came from a conversation with him." He laughed. "You see, it does seem strange, for he was deep in plan-making with Prince Imrahil over the marriage of his daughter...to you." Seeing the striken look upon his face, Faramir it seemed could not help but smile and add, "So, you can see my confusion..."

Paige's heart sank. It fell even farther when Faramir said, "Have no fear, Éomer. Paige will be well cared for. We discussed what should be done if your lord and master would not grant his permission. Paige has already invited me go with her to her homeland, let your engagement come to naught."

Éomer eyed her, his face a chasm of betrayal.

Driving in the dagger deep, Faramir then turned to her and said, "Oh, and Paige before I should forget, I had your room moved from the Houses of Healing into the Royal Court for your comfort. It is next to mine. For your protection of course..."

Without another word, Éomer turned and at once disappeared into the crowd. Her eyes narrowing sharply, Paige gave Faramir a painful punch in his stomach.

"My word, Paige! OW!"

"Faramir! What the fuck are you trying to do to me? Do you hate me now, is that it? Are you seeking revenge for something, because by GOD, you do not want to be in my bad books..."

"What?! Paige, no! It was all part of the plan! I swear!"

Flabbergasted, Paige could utter little but, "How?! HONESTLY! HOW was that helpful?"

"Do you not see? Now Éomer shall be forced to stand up once and for all for his choice! You will be thanking me in a day or two."

Her manner and voice both grim, she replied, "I'd better be. Seriously, Faramir, I'd better be. I have no idea if you have them in Middle Earth, but if this all turns sideways, so help me GOD, you're going to learn was a nutcracker is REALLY for!"

Most of what Paige had threatened had been lost on Faramir, but he did not doubt her sincerity. "Have faith, Paige. All will be as it should."

Faramir showed Paige to her room, which she was abundantly grateful for, not the least being able to kick him out and slam the door, for even if it helped settle things, she didn't like how Éomer had been handled.

The room was cavernous, by far the biggest bedroom she had ever stayed in. The bed was massive and had a sweeping canopy overhead. She had her own bathroom which consisted of several chamber pots and a copper tub, draped in linen. There was also a sitting area adjoined to the bedroom, with two chaise longes, so one could rest with another person, she assumed. But most blissfully, she had her own private balcony.

Granted, the view was of Mordor and Mount Doom (which was still spiting up molten lava), but she didn't care. It was breezy, quiet and cool, and away from the throngs of stinky people who needed baths like nobody's business.

When Paige did see Éomer again later that evening, his humour appeared far from improved.

"But what did he say?" she asked as he glowered in every direction.

But Éomer just let out a great huff and growled, "What does it matter? We quarreled. He tirelessly rants about invigorating the bloodline with nobel blood. Insanity."

Paige sighed. She wasn't sure what troubled her more, that Théoden had it in his mind to marry Éomer off (true, to his intended true love, but she didn't want to think about that at present), or that ever since she arrived at the dining hall, Éomer hadn't been able to look at her.

"Hey," she said, gently tugging on his sleeve. He did not turn, so she tugged harder. "Hey."

At last his eyes met hers, but it took several moments for the ice in them to melt. When at last she could see warmth behind them she simply said, "I love you. Whatever happens. Whatever you're made to do, I love you."

He sighed, and took her hand. "And I love you. But, fear not. He cannot force a marriage upon my head."

"So you've said, and yet he keeps pushing for it. Makes me nervous."

Paige had hoped that he would reassure her that all her worries were stupid, nothing but a waste of time. But, he simply stood there, so still he might have been made of stone, and with such a look of wrath, she wondered if an Orc army had risen from the dead, for it was only in speaking of them that she saw such dislike in him.

Until she looked over, and saw the cause of his discontent: Faramir.

"There's nothing..." she began to say, but met only with his turning back.

"So you have said, repeatedly. Goodnight," and he was swallowed by the gleeful crowd, leaving Paige quite alone in her misery.

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**A/N: So, what do you think? Only 4 chappies left! Please review.**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Look for a new chapter every day now that it's almost finished. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 34**

The following day proved no better, and she had barely seen Éomer at all, much less speak to him. The day after that began even worse, for a great entourage arrived at Minas Tirith, much to the excitement of its people.

"Have you not heard?" Paige's maid said to her one morning, as she was helping her dress. "They say it's that princess. The one from North Ithilian, I believe? I myself have not had a glimpse of her, but they say she is wonderfully fair, with long cascading hair of chestnut brown, and eyes like jewels."

"I'm sure," Paige replied bitterly. "But I'm also sure she snores, has the BO of a barnyard, the temperament of a cave troll, and has slept with half the men in her brother's army."

The poor girl was struck quite dumb, and Paige couldn't help but whisper, "Or so I've been told."

The young maid begged to be excused, she knew it was only an excuse to go and gossip, so off she sent her on her merry way.

It was bad, and reckless of her, making up some tales as that, not to mention wretchedly spiteful. She knew nothing good could come of it, but somehow it made her feel better, knowing that perhaps not everyone would see this whats-her-face as the spiting image of perfection.

She'd like to spit in someone's image, that she knew for certain.

"Paige!" Merry exclaimed with Pippin, as they ran over to greet her when at last she had vacated her room. "Have you heard? Aragorn is to give a party tonight."

Paige shook her head. "I don't get it. When there is feasting, singing and dancing every night, how can tonight be any different and be called a party? Seriously, what's different about it? Laser-tag? Or perhaps a bouncy-castle is more Aragorn's style..."

Merry, however, was quite used to Paige's odd remarks, and took no notice. "It is in honour of Princess Lothríel, who has just arrived."

"That I had heard," Paige replied grim faced. "Have you seen her? Is she stinking beautiful, or just stinking? Please tell me she's fat and has the face of a dog's breakfast."

Pippin merely shrugged his shoulder. "She is as fair may be for tall folk I daresay, but as far as I'm concerned, if she's not got hair on her toes, she's not worth considering."

Paige could not help but laugh heartily, and feel much better because of it. It had been a long time since she had laughed, she then realized. "Oh, you both. I'm going to miss you...so much."

"Is it true, then?" Merry asked, his manner suddenly downcast. "You to leave soon?"

"The day after tomorrow," Paige replied. "I got word from Éomer this morning." She didn't go on to say that he had sent a messenger, and not bothered to come himself, or that he had asked if she wished to go back with them, she was more than welcome to join them the day after next.

"How strange it shall be," Pippin wondered aloud, "to return to normal life after this."

"It is friends that I shall miss," Merry said thoughtfully. "So sad thinking of friends departing. Who knows when we shall all be together again as such?"

"Oh!" Pippin exclaimed. "At our dear Paige's wedding, of course! Surely, Merry, you would venture to Rohan for such an occasion?"

Paige smiled, but it was bittersweet. Somehow, she felt her wedding to Éomer drifting farther and farther away...

Merry seemed to grasp her melancholy. Nevertheless, he replied, "Aye. I should gladly return for such a merry event. And I shall. I give my word."

"And I shall come too!" Pippin replied. "Wedding fare is always the best to be had; I care not who serves it."

With no Éomer to be found, Paige joined the hobbits in enjoying the beautiful spring day. Sam had orchestrated a picnic, and together they sat and consumed enough food for a small army; Paige was never so impressed by what such little folk could pack away.

But it was the evening's festivities which Paige dreaded. As Éomer had been avoiding her, she began to question seeing him. The crowd was thick with music and people, and she wove in amongst the conversing crowd.

"Am I to understand that you are the lady Paige?" a voice said, and Paige quickly turned around to see it's owner. The woman was beautiful. She had long dark hair that loosely curled, and she had also been blessed by the bosom fairies, lucky bitch. Paige knew who she must be at once.

"And I take it you're Lothríel. You're about what I pictured."

"You take it right," Lothríel replied. "Likewise, you are near what I pictured."

"Kay, that's creepy. Why would you be picturing me?"

Moving in closer, Lothríel's eyes narrowed. "I was attempting to picture the woman who stole my destiny."

Paige suddenly felt very sick. "What?" she said faintly.

"Oh yes, I know. You, lady Paige, if indeed you may be called such, are an abomination, and have no business being in Middle Earth."

Paige swallowed hard, but her throat was as dry as a desert. "What...what are you talking about?"

"Be not the fool with me, for it suits neither of us. You say you come from Bree? Lies, say I. You have an air of New York about you. Am I right?"

Feeling her eyes start to bug out of her head, Paige could only utter, "Chicago. How the fuck do you know that?!"

"Think you are the only person to ever break the barrier between our two worlds? I have travelled far. But unlike those around us, I know my fate, Paige. Éomer is my destiny, not yours!"

"It's a free country...I think. He can choose for himself."

"Allow me to make myself perfectly clear. Cease this charade, and let Éomer go free. Refuse, and you shall live to regret it."

For a minute or so, Paige was quite unnerved by the bitch's cold words of warning. However, the minute passed, and Paige remembered herself. Paige: a badass girl with a mouth like a drunken sailor who didn't take shit from nobody. Screw her!

"Whatever, bitch," Paige replied, snapping her finger in Lothríel's face. "You want him, you take him, but if he chooses me, don't come cryin', 'cause I'm only gunna whip yo' ass!"

If Lothríel wished to reply, she thought the wiser of it, and merely stared daggers at Paige instead, before promptly stomping off.

Minutes passed as the crowd swirled around her, yet Paige seemed quite lost in her sea of confusion. When at last she did spot Éomer, it brought her no comfort, for there too Lothríel was to be found, much like a beautiful leech by his side. Paige caught Éomer's eye for a moment, and then he looked away, either unable or unwilling to see the betrayal in her eyes.

Though music was playing, Paige heard none of it. Instead she quietly sang to herself:

"So it's gonna be forever,

Or it's gonna go down in flames.

You can tell me when it's over,

If the high was worth the pain.

Got a long list of ex-lovers.

They'll tell you I'm insane,

'Cause you know I love the players

And you love the game.

'Cause we're young and we're reckless,

We'll take this way too far.

It'll leave you breathless,

Or with a nasty scar..."

"Paige, my dear!" Théoden said, interrupting both her song and her solitude. "Well met!"

"Yeah, hi," Paige replied, forcing a smile, but a fool could see that it was half-hearted. "Fun party, huh?"

"As happy a time as one could hope for." Then the king paused, and became more serious, and slowed his speech, as though he seemed to be choosing his words most carefully. "I am so very happy, Paige. Truly, I am...that I am to wish you joy."

"Huh?"

"Indeed! Your happiness, considering after your valiant efforts on the battlefield, are a great hope for me. Indeed, I have no other pleasure than to wish you naught but the greatest of marital bliss!"

"Wow! Really? Oh my God, you have no idea how much that relieves me!"

"Ah! I am touched that my good opinion carries so much weight with you. And Faramir! He is a very fine fellow!"

At once, Paige's stomach fell. Hard. "What?"

"Steward of Gondor! Think of that! Now, I should go and see how Éomer and Lothríel are becoming acquainted..."

Off he strode, and Paige felt like the ground was sinking around her. She turned Éomer's way once more, but the look on his face spoke volumes. THAT'S why he had been avoiding her. THAT'S why he sent messenger instead of seeking her out himself.

"Hello, my honey," a cheerful voice said, "Are you thirsty?"

Paige turned to see Faramir holding two pewter goblets of wine. Without a thought, she grabbed her goblet, chugged it down, grabbed HIS goblet, drank it also, and tugging on his clothes said, "You and I need to chat..."

Ah, sweet ignorant bliss. Faramir followed her most happily into the quiet of the citadel, and had no cause for concern until she at last turned around. He could not but recoil at the sight of her face, tear-stained and contorted in rage. "Tell me it wasn't you."

"Paige, my dear, are you quite well? Your face..."

"Forget my fucking face, just tell me. Was it you?"

"I know not what you mean."

"There's a rumor that you and I are engaged. Just...tell me it wasn't you."

Placing his tender hands on her shoulders, he said, "Paige, would I do such to you?"

At once she collapsed in his arms, and could not hold back her tears. It was all falling to pieces, and now it did not seem like there was any way to mend it.

He tenderly stroked her head. "But, would it be such a terrible thing? Marrying me? We should each have our freedom, and be such merry companions..."

Paige had become quite still. Slowly, she raised her eyes. "It WAS you. How could you DO this to me?!"

"Now, Paige, I insist it is for the best! Thédoden will never consent, for his mind is quite made up about Lothríel. It is a lost cause! Why are we both to be miserable when we have a perfectly amiable solution that best pleases everyone?"

Paige took a deep breath, and when she at last spoke, her words were dangerously quiet. So quiet, Faramir leaned down so he could hear properly. "Once before a man engaged himself to me before asking me first. You know what response that deserves? A knee in the balls!"

And with no reservation, she promptly did just that, quite crippling poor Faramir. Without another word, she strode away, and for the first time in several days, feeling somewhat better.

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**A/N: Couldn't finish this story without Paige kneeing one more man (and quite deservedly so) in the balls! Look for a new chapter tomorrow. For now, please review! **


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Today's installment. Just two more to go!**

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**Chapter 35**

Paige's campfire smoked something dreadful, but she could not complain. She was glad of her sputtering flame, as it was the only company she had.

They had now been gone from Minas Tirith nearly a week. The road felt much slower going home than going to battle. In her past, she always felt that the case. Of course, she had always loved traveling, but always seemed eager that once on the road, wanted to be nowhere but home.

But Paige had a long way to go yet. England was far, and Chicago much farther still. At present, it seemed an insurmountable distance, and so she focussed on the smaller things. Like, "Hey look, there's that gnarly old tree that looks like it's growing sideways," or " Hey, I remember that big rock! I think I peed behind it last time."

When suddenly, Éomer appeared carrying an armful of wood. He surveyed her a moment before saying, "I trust you are well? More wood for your fire."

"Yes, I..." she replied, only to be cut off by a grunt of a reply, and him stomping off. Such was their conversations as of late. Somehow, he had again become that surly, downcast man she had known when they first met. She thought of pressing him further. Protesting, pleading, strapping him down and making him listen.

But, it had all been said before. She had told him all, and he just didn't believe her. In the end, she could not help but wonder if it was for the best. Perhaps, they were never supposed to be, and this was how it was to end.

She had never felt so lonely in all of her life. Even when she was banished she had Grima. Now more than ever, she longed for Merry.

Merry had indeed wept upon their saying farewell on that last day in Minas Tirith. Paige, it was true, did not have dry eyes, either.

"I shall miss you," Merry said, when Paige knelt down and gave him a hug. "Most heartily, I do declare."

"And I shall miss you," Paige replied, sniffling. "You've been a true friend to me, Merry. Through thick and thin. I'll never forget you."

They hugged, and Merry wiped away a tear. "You speak as if we shall not see one another again. As though you are going back."

Paige shrugged her shoulder. "I think Éomer is having second thoughts. And really, I'm nothing but trouble. Anyone would have to be completely mental to fall in love with me."

"Perhaps." Merry thought a moment, and watched the soldiers ready their horses. "And yet, perhaps anyone who falls in love is completely mental. Perhaps you must be to fall in love, and risk everything."

Just then, a soldier called Paige, and she had no choice but to give Merry another last hug, as well as a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Merry. I swear, I'll never forget you."

Merry could only choke a reply, and even now, as it was a week later, Paige wondered what he had said. She could have sworn that he said he loved her too, but she couldn't be certain.

Sleep took her, and she was once again disturbed by dreams. She was at a party in Minas Tirith, and Eomer strode up to her, saying, "Lothríel said you were an abomination, and I quite agree. I cannot believe I did not see so before." She quickly tried to explain that just because you're not a local doesn't make you an abomination, but then Aragorn appeared beside Éomer and said, "Nay, I quite agree. Abomination, indeed." All the crowd began to boo at her...

Paige woke with a start, but at first, it seemed that the booing continued on.

"Whatthefuck?"

It was then that she noticed a herd of sheep had wandered into their campground, supposedly in the early morning light. One eyed her menacingly, and it was then that she remembered she was laying on two (quite comfy and warm) sheepskins.

"Well, don't blame me!" Paige professed to the sheep. "I certainly didn't kill your friends!"

The sheep bleated her response, like she wasn't completely satisfied.

"Ya know what?" Paige whispered to it. "I think it's Éomer you should go baa at. He gave them to me, so he's the one you want."

The sheep bleated once more, and then wandered off. Paige could only assume in search of Éomer and revenge...

Her dream had made her homesick for Minas Tirith. There, her friends still were. Faramir, too but she didn't really know what category to put Faramir in...

Aragorn's farewell had been stately and brief, but unbeknownst to everyone else, they had had a more private farewell, as well.

"What is this I hear of you and Faramir?" he had said.

"A vile rumour. I'm not marrying him. Honestly, I'd have sooner married Grima, than marry Faramir."

Aragorn nodded and smiled. "I see you and Éomer are still at odds. I am sorry for it."

Paige smiled soberly, for there were no dreams clouding her vision. No hopes barring her path. "It is what it is, just as we are what we are. Some things just aren't meant to be."

Aragorn was one moment passive and the other incredulous. "This from the warrior who with single-hand would attack the King of the Wraiths and his foul beast? From thee I receive such words of defeat?"

"I'll remind you, I killed neither the dragon nor the undead dude, and got my brains smashed in as a thank-you gift."

"And yet you attempted it. Despite knowing your probable fate. You are quite contrary, Paige. How can you show such bravery, risking your very life for strangers and a cause not your own, and yet with this - with Éomer, you retreat?"

Paige thought a moment. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I..."

"I shall tell you," he said interrupting, which was all very well, as she had no idea how to reply. "Why do you flee so readily? Because Éomer is truly what you care about. Not our cause, nor our persons, which...believe me when I say, I harbour no ill will against you, for this was never your fight, just as it was never on your doorstep. But with Éomer, you had great cause to care. And just as you flee, so does he for the same reason. You care too deeply. So much so, you are frightened to death by it. For what should happen if that love were to disappear? Aye? Where would you be then?"

"Up Schitt's Creek?"

"I do not..."

"Never mind."

"I shall tell you where you would be. Lost. Hopelessly lost."

"Right! So, you see why..."

"But also, I know this," he said, cutting her off once more. "That true love does not come without sacrifice. Sometimes we sacrifice our own wants and cares. Other times, position or titles. Yet, in your case, as with mine, we sacrifice our own happiness. For without our true love, there is no future beyond misery. I daresay you should move on and fall in love again as you have done so in the past. But a love like this...it is rarer than all the mithril in my kingdom."

"I say, Lady Paige!" a male voice called, rudely yanking Paige back to the here and now. She had been standing by Aróf thinking and her mind, in seemed, took a little vacay.

"Sorry!" she said, shaking her head and clearing out the dustbunnies. "Sorry, what did you say again?"

The soldier replied, "That the King and men are assembled, and wish to set off. Have you readied?"

"I am. Yes."

And again she climbed Aróf, catching a fleeting glance from Éomer. Her love was profound, as Aragorn had said. The kind to last a lifetime. And yet, she doubted he could ever make the leap of faith. To follow her through unknowns, fire and hardship while still trusting what she said to be truth, despite seeming like madness.

And as they neared ever closer to Edoras, she knew her journey through Middle Earth was nearly at an end, forever.

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**A/N: Some readers have commented on their surprise that Éomer is not fighting as though he would in battle. I decided to take this route, because I saw him as being fearless in all things he was familiar with, and not so with love, something he was unfamiliar with. I don't think someone can be brave all the time with everything, regardless of who they are. Likewise, with trying to make Paige as well-rounded a character (I don't want her to be accused of being a Mary-Sue, after all!), I have given her failings. With her, her bravery and saucy words are all a show. A mask in attempt to hide her true insecurities. But when those insecurities are challenged, she crumbles into self-doubt and weakness.**

**Just some of my thoughts. What are yours? Please review! **


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Today's chappie for your enjoyment! Tomorrow is the last one!**

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**Chapter 36**

Paige's ass was tired, not to mention black and blue from being bounced around from here to kingdom come. She loved Aróf, but was heartily glad to get off her broad back. Upon that last dismount, however, Paige couldn't help but hold her bridle close, looking into Aróf's large brown eyes, and cry.

"I'm going to miss you, Aróf," Paige whispered while stroking her long face. "I couldn't have asked for a better horse. You took a chance on me when I was banished and hopeless, and was with me through everything. I really hate to say goodbye."

Aróf whinnied a reply, and Paige could not help but smile through her tears.

"I'd take you with me - I would, but I have much farther to go, and I don't think you'd fit through the door, much less on a plane home."

Letting out a great huff, Aróf could only stomp her hoof in protest.

"I know. I'm sorry, but I think it's time for me to go. You've been the most faithful horse I've ever known, and I'll never look at another horse without thinking of you, for as long as I live. I'll miss you." Paige wiped away her tears, but more quickly took their place. "I love you."

At this, Aróf could only blink her love and goodbyes, and sadly looked on as Paige gave her one last hug, and slowly walked away.

Meduseld! What sore eyes did see it, for Paige was nearly tired beyond death. Her emotions had run her quite thin, and with all these final farewells, she now felt raw to the bone. She had been putting off the last one, Éomer's, with the deepest of dread. She felt kind of like Rachel saying goodbye to Ross when she was moving to Paris, and how she totally skipped him because she couldn't bear the thought of actually saying goodbye.

Except, Rachel was only moving to Paris. Paige's goodbye was more of the indefinite kind.

In truth, she was chicken shit, and she knew it. She'd just as soon slip away. Never actually say goodbye, and just - vanish. Like a figment of his imaginations. Something to haunt his dreams. Was she truly real? He would never know... Yes, she could spin it to herself that it was better that way.

The hallway was long and empty, for the servants were busy greeting their lord and King in the Great Hall, upon his most triumphant return from victory. She thought of going to Éowyn's room and changing her dress, but in the end, she didn't see the point. She'd be back in her own clothes in just a minute, and no need to steal any more of Éowyn's clothes, pretty as they were.

There was the door. It was closed, but Paige was sure it wasn't locked. This time it would open, and her long journey would be at an end. She reached up her hand.

"Paige."

Turning her head, Paige saw Éomer. He stood solemnly fifteen feet away from her, seemingly reluctant to draw too close. Her hand fell to her side.

"Hey," she replied.

He did not speak. He appeared at a loss for words. "How do you fare?" he said at last, though it seemed odd, as though he had not seen her in a long time.

"I'm okay. I'm tired. Exhausted, really. I'd pretty much commit murder for a bath."

"Murder need not be committed. I shall fetch a servant to draw you one directly."

"No, don't bother."

"Why not? You said you wished it."

Paige struggled for the right words. How much to say? "I'm not going to stay. I think I'll head home soon."

"Surely not!" he said, taking a single step toward her. "At least, not tonight after such a long ride and journey! You cannot wish to travel farther still! Aróf will be in need of rest, as will you!"

"No, I won't trouble Aróf. This is her home, and she should stay here."

He closed his mouth, and his face appeared sad. "You were to leave, then? Slip away without so much as a farewell, breaking your promise?"

"I thought it better, Éomer. We've been through a lot together, you and I. I don't know about you, but I'm not one for long goodbyes. It's like a band-aid. You just gotta rip that sucker right off, and move on with life."

At once, Éomer's eyes flared in anger. "Move on? Is that what you say? Move on?! You do so so easily, then? Move on and out without me or without a care? Is it so? Are you so heartless that you feel nothing to me that you should rip me off and out of your heart and carry on as though you felt nothing at all?" Though angry, he wept openly and did not attempt to hide his tears.

At once her heart melted, and she was about to run to him, beg him to forgive her, that she didn't mean any of it. It was simply her way of coping with unsurmountable grief. The grief of losing the best thing she had ever had.

Except then his tears turned to malace, and he spat, "Then be on your way, if it must be so! Begone! For I banish you now from both my uncle's kingdom and my heart. Never to return."

Paige felt like she'd be kneed in the balls, if she had any. With those hateful words, he turned and began to walk away.

Only to stop. He was shaking his head, and he knew not why. Why had he spoken such hateful things to this mad, lunatic girl whom he loved most in the world? She had hurt him, and the dagger had gone deep. Was he such a child to strive to wound her, too?

He whirled around. "Paige, I..."

But she was gone. Without a footfall or a farewell, she had simply disappeared.

"Paige?" he repeated, stepping closer to where she had been.

"Paige!"

But no sound did he hear, save the echo of his own voice down the empty passageways.

He stopped and screamed her name louder still. "PAIGE! I AM SORRY! PAIGE! FORGIVE ME!"

Succumbing to his knees, he wept openly at his own folly. It was not until opening them did he espy a door.

'In Meduseld, there is a magic door,' she had said.

'Indeed? A magic door, you say?' he recalled replying, skeptically.

'Yes. And that's where I'm from.'

Éomer heard the words echo from his memory, and they seemed to radiate the walls and tremor the floor beneath his feet. He rose up and reached out his hand.

"This is madness," he said, but regardless of reason or right, he lifted the latch.

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**A/N: Well, what did you think? A bit of a cliffhanger, I know. It just felt right to end it there, and save the last for tomorrow. Please review!**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Here you are! The finale!**

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**Chapter 37**

Paige was a mess beyond all comparison. She sobbed inconsolably in her cousin's arms, staining her pale green muslin spencer jacket with her tears.

"There, there," Amanda consoled, eying the wetmark with some disfavour. "But do use a Kleenex, by God. Although I never do laundry myself at Pemberley, I hear muslin's impossible to keep clean! And then it needs to be starched, and ironed, and I have no dislike of giving my maids work, but I'd just as soon keep them in my good graces."

"Sorry," Paige sobbed, and then cradled the box of tissues as though it were a baby.

"He's a nasty bastard. You're better off. Not every book has a happy ending."

Paige simply nodded her head, sniffling, and then looked up at the third person in the room who up until this moment, had remained silent. She was tanned, wore distinctly masculine clothes which had a military-feel to them, and her hair had been cropped to a short, neat crew cut. A shield-maiden no longer, Éowyn now stood tall and intimidating, and yet her eyes softened to see Paige's tears. "I am sorry for your grief, Paige. My brother..."

But her voice trailed off, and a moment later she gasped, as did everyone else, for at that moment Éomer burst into the room, a look of shock on his face to match theirs.

His eyes surveyed the modern living room a moment. "I fear I am dreaming..."

"No, you are awake!" Paige cried, throwing the box of tissues, and leapt into his arms. Their arms clasped tightly around each other, but Éomer's eyes continued to scan about the room. "What is this place?"

"This is where I'm from," Paige replied. "Sort of. Actually, this is my cousin Amanda's apartment."

"Pleased to meet you," Amanda said, rushing up, thrusting her hand in his, and bobbing a quick curtsey. "I've longed to meet you. I say! You are a manly-man, aren't you. You look like you belong on a cigarette commercial, or perhaps a whisky advert."

Éomer's brow furrowed. _This must indeed where Paige is from, for here too people say the strangest things_, he thought.

"Ignore her," Paige advised.

"Hello, Brother," Éowyn said, standing quite still.

At once, his attention was captured but his eyes could not grasp what they saw. Ahead of him was not, could not be his sister! And yet that voice, those eyes proved otherwise. "Éowyn? It cannot be..." He stepped closer, and so did she until they embraced tightly, for it had been long since they had seen one another, and each faced many perils. "What did they do to you?"

"It is not so," she smiled. "Nothing that I did not wish. Here, this is how a soldier looks."

"A soldier? Can that truly be your wish?"

"Yes, and I tell you brother, these months I have spent here, I have never felt freer, or more happy in my entire life."

"But surely, their fight is not your own."

"I have organized an army. We will work with a local government in a land called Nigeria and attack an enemy called Boko Haram. They are true villains, brother. This cause has struck a chord in me. I must do what I can to help free their captives."

"But...you are a woman," Éomer said without thinking, and at once all three were up in arms, and correcting his mistake. "Aye, aye, peace!" he cried, holding his hands up in submission. "I see women can be warriors, too!"

"Yes," Éowyn replied, "and can be as fierce and brave as any man. This is my calling, Brother. I fear neither death nor pain."

At this, Éomer sighed. "Then, I wish you well sister. A speedy victory, and a safe return."

Then, taking Paige's hand, he led her over to the window and looking out, gazed upon a new world he could never have imagined. It was mid-day, and the street was busy with walkers, cars, and all the bustling noise that comes with such traffic. "I see," he whispered, half to himself. "I see."

But Paige was nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

Éomer simply nodded his head in final understanding. "I can at last make reason of it. Of you. You are not of my world. That is why you knew of such things I could not understand. You are a mystery solved, Paige. I hope you do forgive me for being of fickle heart, and having no faith. I fear I have been proved wanting."

"I understand! Honestly! If our roles were reversed, I don't think I'd have believed me, either. I just hope you can forgive me."

"What ever for?"

"For not fighting harder to make you understand."

But Éomer merely shook his head and pulled her in close, for he knew without uncertainty that never would he have truly believed her if he had not seen with his own eyes.

"Soooo, what do you mean to do now, Paige?" Amanda asked hesitantly. "Are you to go back to Rohan, or are you going home?"

With questions in their eyes, Paige and Éomer stared at one another, as though trying to hear the answers in one another's minds. At length, they both smiled.

"I'm going home," Paige said, smiling broadly. "To Rohan."

Exclamations were then made, and wishes for joy and happiness, until Amanda said, "But what about Théoden? I thought you said he had settled his mind on Miss Fancy-pants?"

For this arguement, Paige had no answer. She looked longingly at Éomer, when he suddenly said, "Marry me. Here. Today!"

"What?!" Paige exclaimed.

"He cannot argue when the deed is done. He shall be angry, to be sure, that his permission had not been sought, or freely given, but I shall choose my wife for myself - if she shall have me."

Paige felt as thought she might burst like Violet Beauregarde in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and splatter everyone with blueberry juice. "OKAY!" she shouted, unable to contain her excitement any longer.

"An elopement..." Amanda said longingly. "Darcy and I should have done that... As it was, Catherine de Bourgh was there and made such a stink face, you cannot imagine!"

"But how shall you get married?" Éowyn inquired. "Where?"

"There's a vicar down the street," Amanda suggested. "It's not so late after church. If we run, we might catch him!"

And so they all ran, hand in hand, looking like a Halloween parade gone wrong, but all as jovial and light-hearted as children as they romped down the street to church and happiness.

Luck was on their side, for the vicar, an older man in his sixties, was just locking the door.

"Thank God we caught you!" Amanda exclaimed. "Would you mind terribly performing a wedding?"

"I beg your pardon?!" the vicar exclaimed, looking at the people of various periods of dress before him.

"Oh please, sir," Paige begged. "We haven't got a license or anything, but we just want to get married."

"I'm afraid I cannot possibly marry you today if you haven't a license! It would not be legal!"

But Amanda would not so easily be defeated. "Oh, we don't care a fig about that! It's not a matter or legality, it's more a matter of love."

The vicar, however, shook his head as though trying to wake from a nightmare. "I feel as though I have fallen through the rabbit hole..."

"I pray you, good sir," Éomer said, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "Kindly grant me leave to profess my love and faithfulness to this woman, who makes me a better man simply by knowing her."

After nearly a full minute's consideration, the vicar replied, "I must be mad..." and the four cheered for they had won. "Come in, come in," the vicar invited, and they followed him into the church.

People properly positioned, another warning given about legality, and then he began. "Dearly beloved. We are gathered here together..."

In less than ten minutes, it was done. Walking back from the church, much more soberly and reverently than how they had come to it, Paige and Éomer felt more as though they were floating on air as their hearts were so light and full of joy.

More farewells given both to Amanda and Éowyn, as well as promises to come back soon for visits in a month's time; it was now time to go home. Now Paige truely felt as though she were returning to the place she was meant to be.

"Paige," Éomer said as he led her through the gateway back, "what now? What do you know of _our_ future?"

And Paige smiled. "Absolutely nothing," she replied, closing the door firmly behind her.

**THE END**

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**A/N: Read on. Epilogue to follow!**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: But what happens next? Read on!**

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**Epilogue**

Of course, King Théoden was not at all pleased with the news of Éomer and Paige's wedding. He said to Éomer, "If you had but TOLD me of your earnest desire to wed her above all others, I should never have objected!" He soon came round to the new reality, and settled into having Paige as a daughter-in-law.

The newlyweds ventured to Minas Tirith for Aragorn's wedding, and was happily met there by their dear friends. Merry and Pippin were disappointed that they had not been able to attend the wedding, but Merry was much happier by far that the event had actually taken place, and that he would not be losing her forever. In the years that followed, he and Pippin often visited Rohan, and likewise did Paige and Éomer venture forth to the Shire, a place Paige never thought she should ever get to see (as well as the long-fabled Bree, her once so-called home).

Lothríel was vexed beyond anything upon the wedding announcement, but quickly found solace in Faramir. They discovered that they got along rather well, and were soon betrothed. Paige thought they suited each other perfectly. Of course, she made up with Faramir, but never called him a 'friend' again.

Two summers passed before Paige gave birth to their first child, a girl, who they named Éowyn Xena. When asked why the name Xena, Paige replied, "Because she's a badass shield-maiden, of course!" Her aunt by that same name returned just once to Rohan, upon King Théoden's deathbed, three years later.

Now Queen of Rohan, Paige is pregnant again with their second child, and was even so bold as to insist the law of succession be changed, that their daughter be queen before a possible son. At first, Éomer thought the idea quite mad, and naught but one of Paige's newfangled ideas, but in the end, when staring into his wee daughter's beautiful blue eyes, he saw reason.

On dark nights once they lay down to sleep, Éomer sometimes cannot help but ask her, "Paige, do you not think what might've happened had I not come through that door? How your life might be different?"

And every time, Paige replies the same. "Nope. 'Cause nothing can be better than this."

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**A/N: So, that is the end, my friends. I hope you sincerely enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was meant to be just a 3 month endeavor, but turned into over a year. How did that happen?! A baby, that's how. LOL**

**My next work is already selected. No fanfic, but a pilot for a TV show. It will probably come to nothing, but I've got to give it a shot. After that, I have several ideas for books I've been toying with. Next time you hear from me, I hope it's to announce I've published a book. Not sure when/if I'll return to fanfiction. I guess time and inspiration will tell.**

**I do hope you will review, and let me know what you thought of this the end of the story, or of the whole if you've read but never reviewed before. Just a reminder that you don't need a membership to leave a comment.**

**Best wishes, and God bless.**

** Liz :)**


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